Fate and coincidences
by TizTiz
Summary: Bella has spent the last year of her life trying to forget Edward Cullen. After all he doesn't even know she exists. Edward has spent the last year trying to forget everything and everyone. Sometimes people are bound together no matter what. AH,OOC
1. Chapter 1

**Summary : Bella has spent the last year of her life trying to forget Edward Cullen. After all he doesn't even know she exists. Edward has spent the last year trying to forget everything and everyone. Sometimes people are bound together no matter what. AH,OOC**

**Disclaimer : I don't own 'Twilight'. Sadly.**

**Chapter One**

**Bella**

_**I'm a realist, I'm a romantic. I'm indecisive and that's about it. **__**And you dream that's the same thing, that's the same life you lead. I don't agree and so you drink, don't wanna think, that's cos your mind is already made up **__**- The Cribs, I'm a realist**_

The point at which it all started is debatable. On occasions I tend to compare my life to a particularly nasty train wreck (pessimism is one of my dominant traits I'm afraid). In a train wreck there is always a point at which that train and its passenger's fates are determined. The problem is identifying that specific point, and like most things in life, people disagree over it.

Some people will state that the moment when the train came into contact with the loose piece of track is the point at which the moment of impact became unavoidable. Others will claim that if the train had been travelling at a slightly slower speed then the train would not have spiraled out of control. Therefore the moment when the train driver made the decision to speed up was the point it was all decided. Then a small minority of people will claim that the train and its passenger's fates were determined before the train even pulled out of the station. All those people involved were just innocent pawns in an enormous game of chess that God just happened to be immersed in at the time. I guess that your point of view all depends upon the type of person that you are.

Unfortunately unlike the rest of the general population I do not appear to have a set personality type. I am like a box of paints that an unruly toddler managed to get his hands on and mixed all of the colors until they became an indistinguishable blob of chaos. My friends used to refer to me as quirky when I would do something that would separate me from my peers. My father once called me 'a psychiatrist's worst nightmare' when he was particularly exasperated at me one day. I suppose I can see his point. How can you analyze and repair someone who does not fit any sort of conventional stereotype? Then again you could say, how can you ever fix a broken person at all?

I am romantic yet pragmatic, a dreamer yet pessimistic, talented at emphasizing with people yet hopeless at communicating, terrified of confrontations yet easily irritated and have a tendency to be depressed a lot of the time yet I am naturally hopeful. I am a walking contradiction, a weirdo. Some people spend their entire lives trying to stand out from the crowd and beat the oppression that results from stereotypes. I'm not like those people, all I ever wanted was to fit in and be accepted. Whenever I think about my life all I can hear is 'and isn't it ironic, don't you think? It's like rain on your wedding day, like a free ride when you've already paid...' echoing through my head (that's another thing that you should be aware of. I can take any event in my life, no matter how insignificant, and put a soundtrack to it).

The result of my self imposed identity crisis is that I cannot identify the exact point that my life started to spiral out of control. I don't know exactly when I slipped over the metaphorical line that I was straddling that separated sensible from crazy or sanity from insanity. Much like with the train wreck scenario I often find myself debating where the turning point occurred.

Sometimes I tend to waver towards the idea that it was all decided the moment I was born. Either that or the moment he was born. You see, for reasons unknown I've always believed in love at first sight and soul-mates. I don't know whether it resulted from reading too many romance novels as a pre-teen or whether it was just a quirk in my genetic make-up but it's just the way I've always been.

I don't even really understand why I've always been such a firm and unwavering romantic. I've certainly never seen two people that look as though they belong with each other and would do anything for the other. My mother and father, Charlie and Renee, were certainly not shining examples of true love. In fact I seem to distinctly remember my mother leaving my father for a American man who was twenty years her junior and owned his own chain of gambling shops and moving to Seattle without a backwards glance at her bewildered husband or sixteen year old son and ten year old daughter. I would say that they were more soul destroyers (think the Dementors off 'Harry Potter') than soul mates. Even now my father is 'happily married' to my stepmother (imagine home cooked meals every night of the week and a woman who's soul joy in life seems to be dusting) he still does not exactly resemble the epitome of happiness. Passionate kisses and adoring glances my father and stepmother are not. To be honest I am convinced that the cheese and potato bake that my stepmother is so fond of baking receives more loving glances from my father than his second wife ever has.

You'd think that being surrounded by perfect examples of failing relationships and blatant indifference to marriage vows would cause me to become the type of person that believes love was a concept that was invented so our capitalist society can make money off Valentine's cards. However I've always been the type of person that will not settle for anything other than true love and who refuses to believe that their life will resemble anything other than the plot of a romantic comedy movie.

My theory is that when your entire young life seems to have been a plot to make you lose all faith in the Universe and everyone in it then you find one thing worth holding onto and cling to it like it's your lifeline. I just could not bring myself to accept that one day I'd find myself in a marriage with less passion than a horror film and that I'd represent everything I despised in my father, step-mother and biological mother. I just wanted to believe that they'd been stupid enough to settle for second best and I had seen enough never to repeat their mistakes.

Despite this blazing faith that I possessed I never had unrealistic notions about romance. I didn't depict romance as knights on white horses or bouquets of yellow roses to represent eternal love or any of that unrealistic bullshit. My idea of romance was your heart skipping a beat at the sight of your beloved's face and being unable to get them off your mind all day everyday. I like to think of myself as a logical romantic if such thing exists.

Therefore my romantic side tells me that even if I'd tried to do everything differently my life would still have swiveled out of control at some point and the overall result would still have been the same. At times I find myself wondering if I like to believe this so I absolve myself of the responsibility for all of the idiotic decisions I made in my life. After all it's much easier to look back at a disaster if you know that nothing you could possibly have done would have prevented it. Since I've always been the type of person who would prefer to bury their head in the sand rather than face it head on it is certainly possible that my belief in soul mates is yet another avoidance technique.

Anyway the majority of the time my more practical side over-powers the hopeless romantic inside of me. When this happens I usually come to the conclusion that my life started towards that one way street to chaos and disaster in the November of the year I was fifteen years old.

I cannot remember the exact date that was the catalyst that triggered the chain reaction that happened after that point. I didn't recognize how significant that specific day was in determining the path I would take for the rest of my life until months later. If I'd known how important one simple event can be in the grand scheme of things I'm almost positive that I would have remembered the date and time. However I didn't and at the time it seemed no more important than the average day in the life of Bella Swan.

I have a deplorable habit of over-analysing things that I cannot change and have no control over so naturally I've found myself wondering if I'd have gone into that cinema if I'd known how it would change my whole life and the very essence of the person I'd become. Would I have purchased that fateful ticket (it was possibly more fateful than Charlie's golden ticket in the Wonka Bar) or would I have turned my back and walked away?

The answer isn't simple or straight forward. That day was the trigger for a truck-load of happiness, pain, love, anger, regret and passion. If I was gifted at being rational then perhaps I would come to the conclusion that the whole ordeal just wasn't worth the trauma that ensued. Unfortunately no-one could ever say that being rational is one of my talents.

I suppose the best way for you to be able to decipher my ramblings is to explain the whole story. How do you explain something that caused you more pain and stress than you could have imagined it was possible to feel beforehand but at the same time had the potential to make you happier than you'd ever dared to hope you might be? I guess that the beginning (or like I said previously, what I assume is the beginning) is as good a place as any.

*****

**November 2007 - Bella is fifteen**

"Bella! Earth to Bella!"

I was abruptly pulled out of my daydream in a rather unpleasant manner. By unpleasant I mean that my best friend, Jessica, was talking far louder than any person can in a public place without attracting unneccesary attention and waving her hand dangerously close to my face.

I'd always had an innate tendency to randomly tune out of conversations. Maybe a lot of people would see this as a fault and at times I admit it does irritate people slightly. However, I always saw it as a kind of gift to be able to escape from mundane reality whenever I want to. From the outside I guess that it could possibly make me look aloof and stand-offish. That may possibly have been one of the factors that it made it so hard for me to connect with people. My friends long ago accepted my general strangeness and for the most part they didn't seem to mind. Others, like my father, saw it as a fault and I suspect at times thought that I phased out to deliberately irritate them.

My step-mother once referred to me as 'living on Planet Bella, with a population of one' (I think it's necessary to state that the sarcasm was practically dripping off her tongue when she said this). I preferred to thinking of it as my happy place.

On Planet Bella best friends did not ramble on for almost an hour about the flavor of the month actor who she was practically drooling at the thought of. On Planet Bella the said best friend would not ignore the fact that I could not care less about 'sexy actor man' and obliviously continue to insist that 'I had never seen a man as gorgeous as this one'. To be honest on Planet Bella I would not certainly not allow myself to be dragged to the cinema on a Friday evening (which of course meant that you could barely move without being blocked off by loved up couples with their tongues shoved down each other's throats) to see an unbelievably hyped up movie just to witness 'sexy actor man's' debut performance.

"What now, Jess?" I sighed as I resisted the urge to shove the embracing couple that were blocking off the queue to the popcorn counter out of my way. Instead I settled for giving them my best exasperated sigh.

"What are you doing? Haven't you been listening to a word I said? There's no time for popcorn, we've got to get good seats," Jess' voice was now bordering on hysterical.

"There is no way that I'm sitting through this film without some kind of food to get me through."

"Well I'm going in. Wait here on your own if you're that bothered," Jess' voice had taken on a distinctly huffy tone.

The implication that if I dared to queue for popcorn I would be treated to first class sulks for the next few days was made extremely evident. I watched as she practically ran in the direction of screen one. I glanced longingly back at the popcorn stand. Then I muttered a curse under my breath and ran to catch up with Jessica.

She smirked at me when I reached her side and lead the way into the screen. We settled into our seats which of course were in the front row (prime seats for ogling Mr Sexy Actor, not so prime seats if you had an aversion to straining your neck) and I watched as Jessica tapped her feet impatiently.

"Will you settle down? We're fifteen minutes early. It's not going to start for ages," one of my pet hates was people fidgeting.

She just rolled her eyes at me in a guesture of good natured tolerance. I loved my friend, but tonight she was being especially annoying. I wondered how this actor could possibly make up for the amount my patience was being tested this evening. I decided that he simply couldn't and entertained myself for the next twenty minutes by rolling my eyes at all of the people around me chattering excitedly about how 'incredible', 'awesome' and 'mint' this film was going to be. Sometimes I really resented the human race.

I had seen enough in my fifteen and a half years to know that anything that could generate the sort of hype that this movie had managed to create was likely to be mind numbing and kill quite a few brain cells. Hype meant that the majority of the population found this film enjoyable. In my experience, at least half the population had less brain cells than goldfish and were fixated with looks. If bimbos and people who based their opinions on outward appearances liked this film then I was positive that I'd hate every moment of it. On various occasions Suki had dubbed me a 'film snob'. I liked to think of it as being selective.

After the same old trailers (BMWs create joy and Ben and Jerry's ice cream brings a smile to your face) the film began. The opening credits came up and I learnt that 'sexy actor man' was in fact called Edward Cullen. Then he appeared on the screen and although I didn't know it then my life changed forever.

I wouldn't say that it was love at first sight. Like I said I am a big believer in stuff like that but this time I don't think that I fell in love with him just like that. It was certainly fascination at first sight but maybe not love.

On the other hand, perhaps it was. I was only fifteen years old and I'd certainly never been in love before. I'd never really felt a strong type of attachment to anybody in my entire life. My mother abandoned me, my father tried to connect with me but we'd just never really managed to form a close bond, my older brother was living it up at the other end of the country and I'd never really been extremely close to anybody else. Sure, I loved my friends but we didn't share everything and I preferred to be alone most of the time.

Therefore, perhaps I did fall for Edward Cullen that very first time I saw him. Perhaps I simply failed to recognize it for what it was at the time. If you've never felt something before then how can you identify it? Love, lust, attraction and fascination are all quite hard to tell apart from one and another when you're fifteen. Until you've lived with those feelings for a while they all sort of blur together.

So I guess the conclusion that I have came to is that it may or may not have been love at first sight (a very vague conclusion I know). At the end of the day it doesn't really matter. The only thing that does matter is that it happened. It all happened in that cinema, the moment he appeared on screen.

I could have conjured up a better location and atmosphere to fall in love or develop a fascination or whatever happened. I certainly wouldn't have chosen it to happen in a jam packed cinema with my best friend practically hyperventilating in excitement at my side and the woman beside me munching on her popcorn with alarming vigor. It was a far cry from the settings of the romance novels that I was so fond of. Yet at the same time it was kind of fitting. From that moment on my life was as far from perfect as it could possibly get but that didn't make it any of it less beautiful. He made that screen in Durham Gala cinema better. That was the thing with Edward, he always made everything better.

He was attractive but not in the conventional type of way. At first glance he appeared to be good looking, but not the type of guy that could make women's jaws drop just by walking past them on the street. Then as I studied his features more closely a realization hit me. I was correct, he wasn't just very good looking, he was fucking beautiful.

Never before I saw him had I ever described a guy as beautiful in my entire existence. I'd seen good looking guys and I'd seen very sexy guys before. I'd seen the type of guy that almost every girl in the room would sell their first born child for. Edward Cullen though, was in a different league altogether.

He had the kind of facial structure that an artist would salivate over. Since that day I have never seen a guy with more prominent cheekbones or such a defined jaw. All of his features were so sharp that it instantly gave him a dangerous edge.

His eyes were emerald green and they seemed to look right through the screen and into the very depths of me. I am not ashamed to say that I may have gasped when I looked into those eyes (okay so maybe I am slightly ashamed).

I felt a peculiar urge to suck on his bottom lip. I wasn't entirely sure whether I should feel worried about those impulses. I mean I had never felt so drawn towards a guy in my entire life. I hadn't ever really felt drawn to a guy before period. Also I'm sure I'd look pretty disturbed if I randomly ran up to the screen and attempted to make out with it. It would more than likely end up with men in white coats carrying me away.

Those aspects of his beauty were just scratches on the surface. I could list a hundred other factors that made him so beautiful. His stubble, his collarbone, his long fingers (pianist fingers, I was a sucker for musicians), his unruly but extraordinarily sexy mop of light brown hair and his legs that seemed to go on for miles all contributed to his gorgeousness. If I'd been at all religious I might have wondered if he was an angel. A fallen angel, obviously.

It took less than five minutes for all of these thoughts to enter my head. Therefore theoretically, I'd came to the conclusion that he was the most beautiful, sexy and attractive guy that I'd ever seen in less than five minutes. I think that in itself is a tribute to his looks.

The rest of the film passed in a blur of smiles that filled my stomach with butterflies and the sexiest accent I had ever heard. To this day I still cannot tell you the plot of the film that I watched. To be honest (and I'm a tad embarrassed by this) the only parts of the movie that I can remember with any clarity at all are the sex scenes (and so began my journey into pervdom).

When the lights came back on to signify the end of the film I just slumped in my seat in some kind of daze. My brain had for some reason turned into mush. I didn't know what type of spell this guy had cast on me but to my horror I was turning into everything I despised about my peers. I was lusting over a celebrity that probably have his own advent calendar by next year.

"Bella? Are you ready to go?" for the second time that evening Jess interrupted my internal musings.

"Um, yer sure," I pulled myself out of my seat and followed her up the aisle.

"Told you he was gorgeous," smugness was Jess' speciality at times like these.

"I never said he was gorgeous," I was not going to admit that she right. Smugness may have been Jess' speciality but stubbornness was one of mine.

"Haha, yer right. You were practically drooling over him."

I resisted the urge to face palm myself. Had I really been that obvious? Clearly subtleness was not one of my talents. I didn't understand why after years of nobody ever being able to decipher my thoughts I would choose this moment to become so obvious. I felt strangely exposed.

"He was cute, but he was not gorgeous," I felt ridiculous uttering those words. Saying that Edward Cullen was cute was like stating Hitler had a few anger issues.

This time it was Jess' turn to roll her eyes as we walked out of the cinema doors. I didn't know it then but my life had changed forever. I walked out of that cinema thinking that Edward Cullen was beautiful. My path in life was chosen for me at that moment. At the time I didn't even know it.

I would never have dreamed that one evening could affect the outcome of your life. I would never have thought that a man I'd never even met would have the power to turn my life upside down. All I knew was that Edward Cullen got under my skin and into my head at some point during that film. From that day on he never really left again.

* * *

**A/N - This is my first attempt at fanfiction so any reviews or constructive criticism is welcomed.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer : I don't own 'Twilight'. Sadly.**

**Chapter Two**

**Edward - November 2007**

_**We're burning down the highway skyline, On the back of a hurricane that started turning, When you were young ,When you were young. And sometimes you close your eyes and see the place where you used to live, When you were young - The Killers**_

My week had been like a dream. A very strange, surreal dream to be honest. Some parts of it sort of resembled a nightmare (mostly the parts that involved overly hormonal females screaming at the top of their lungs). Others felt like one of those dreams that you wake up from and practically deflate with disappointment because it wasn't real. Except for me it was real. The situation I'd found myself in was a strange reality, but a reality nevertheless.

I tend to think that the whole situation would have been a little less bewildering if I'd expected or prepared for any of it. The problem was that I hadn't. I had always been the type of person who would just go with the flow and went along with whatever felt like a good idea at the time. I couldn't really claim ignorance either. It wasn't as though I just rushed straight into things without thinking them through first. I was a notorious over-thinker, I had practically been born that way. I was always aware of the consequences, I had just always ignored them.

Then again who really expects to become an actor who stars in one of the most hyped up films of the entire year? If you ask me it would be pretty egotistical to expect that type of good fortune to fall straight into your lap. Who just presumes that one day they're going to be referred to as 'the next Johnny Depp' and 'one of the sexiest men on the planet'? Would you even desire that sort of pressure when you're twenty-one years old, have barely even left your responsibility free teenage years behind you and have no clue about what you want out of your life and the person you want to be?

Like I said, I never expected any of it to happen to me. I was always a drifter, a 'free spirit', as my mother used to call me, and even at the age of nineteen I had absolutely no plans about my future.

The problem was that everything that I had considered making a career out of was the sort of vocation that some people would refer to as 'flaky', the type of jobs that you have to be incredibly lucky to make a career out of. I would have sold my soul to be able to earn a living as a writer or an artist. Those were the types of careers that appealed to me. As my school report once said 'I didn't like being put into a box'.

Obviously my life took an unexpected turn somewhere along the line.

*****

**June 2006 - Edward is nineteen**

I suppose it would say an awful lot about the way my life used to be if I state that it all started in a pub in Soho. We were drowning our sorrows for what felt like the twelfth time in one month (well to be honest Jasper was drowning his sorrows and I was drinking my last ten pounds away under the pretense of keeping him company).

Jasper had been turned down for yet another supporting role that afternoon (he'd given up on chasing after the lead roles months ago) because they were looking for someone 'with a bit more flair'. By this point he was a true starving artist. Well really we were both starving. We were part of an extremely vicious circle. We'd finally manage to scrape together enough money to live decently off but we'd be so fed up of surviving on tinned rice and tap water that we'd head straight down the pub and pretty much drink the money away. I wasn't exactly proud of it, but then I wasn't ashamed either. I was nineteen years old, for Christ's sake. Nobody said you had to start behaving responsibly and make something out of your life before your teen years even came to a complete close.

I suppose that in a few years I'd look back at that time in my life and be kind of grateful for all of it. I'd experienced those years of carelessness and drinking the night away before I was loaded down with responsibilities and burdens. I guess I was lucky in that respect. At the time, I would have sold my soul to make a living off writing or drawing or something that required natural talent rather than effort because I was so fed up of the slump I found myself in but didn't have the motivation to drag myself out of it. Now I see those days for what they were. They were the days of freedom, laughter and creativity. If I'd have wanted to, I could have spent three days straight just composing poetry or sitting in Battersea park sketching the people walking by. In just two years those days would be long gone.

I'm an extremely introspective person (that's one of the reasons why I love to write so much. It's much easier to make sense of your thoughts when they're written down) so I often wonder what I'd tell my nineteen year old self if I had the chance. I especially like to ponder what I would have told my nineteen year old self on the night that he more or less sold his soul, even if he didn't know at the time.

I've never been particularly good at making any sort of decision. I tend to spend so much time pondering the pros and cons of each option that by the time I come to a conclusion the decision has already been made for me. I guess that much is evident just from my story so far. I was nineteen, hadn't been capable of making an informed decision about the subject area I wanted to study at University and had therefore pretty much been voted to end up most likely to end up poor, hungry and career-less for the rest of my life.

When I was nineteen, people would meet me and most of the time they'd assume that I was easy going and just content to go with the flow. As they spent more time with me they'd begin to realize that in actual fact I was just clueless about both what I wanted from life and how to achieve it. Maybe that was why I had only ever been in a relationship with one girl in my entire life and that had only lasted nine months. Girls seemed to have an uncanny knack for sensing that I was a perpetual screw up as soon as I spoke to them for more than five minutes.

Due to my incapability of making decisions, I haven't yet really decided on what I'd say to my nineteen year old self if I had a chance (can you tell I've put a lot of thought into this? I have a lot of time to sit around in hotels thinking about deep and useless questions, a side affect of my accidental career choice). As always I dither and contemplate and never get any closer to actually having an opinion on the matter.

I wonder if I would warn myself to think twice about the offer I was about to be given. I wonder if I would tell myself to just go with the flow and stop panicking about the possible repercussions for once in my life. Then after many minutes of debating in my mind I tell myself that you can't change the past no matter how long you spend thinking about it. I tell myself that I'm being ridiculous but then I simply go back to wondering anyway.

Like every-time I start to tell a story, not many of my ramblings are actually revelevant to the original tale in the first place. I have a tendency to go off track quite a lot of the time.

Anyway, I'll try to get back to the story at hand. I was nineteen, becoming more and more intoxicated and playing a game of darts with Jasper to try and pass the time. Needless to say I was winning by a mile, when you have as much spare time as I did you became a sort of master at pub games like darts and pool. In my alcohol warped mind I saw myself as some kind of Yoda and I was busy forcing my wisdom upon everyone unfortunate enough to be within hearing distance of me.

"Worch vis," Jasper's words were barely distinguishable he was so intoxicated.

We had developed a kind of plan for evenings such as these. As soon as one of us passed the line that separated mildly drunk from completely and utterly pissed the other would stop drinking. It was a fail proof plan. It meant that whichever one of us was more or less sober could apologize for the havoc that the other was inflicting and it ensured that we actually made it back to the flat that we shared when the pub closed as opposed to passing out in rat infested alleyways or being mugged and beaten on our way home (oh the joys of London).

Obviously, that night I was the designated baby sitter. I observed as Jasper fell over his own feet, as he put far too much effort into throwing the dart, especially in his alcohol warped state. I sniggered and glanced at the bar-tender. His expression was lingering somewhere between amusement and irritation at Jasper's idiocy. I had faith in the fact that we wouldn't be turned out, no matter how much chaos Jasper caused, simply because over the past year we'd probably purchased more drinks from this pub than a dozen of the other patrons (I preferred to think of it as funding the pubs of London rather than being alcohol dependent).

That was the moment that my mobile phone rang. If I was a philosophical type of person I might have said that it was my destiny calling me, beckoning me towards greatness or whatever. In actual fact it was a middle aged man called Colin, who I had auditioned in front of a week prior, and had been certain that I'd blown my chances with.

"Edward Cullen?"

"Yep, speaking," I answered, slightly confused over whom was calling me at 9pm. I just hoped that it wasn't the gas company threatening to cut the flat off again (for the record British gas are not always happy to help).

"I'm Colin Trent, the casting director for 'Three's a crowd'. Are you still interested in taking the part of Drake?"

I was momentarily stunned into silence. Nobody ever offered me acting jobs, attending auditions were just ways to fill in the days by this point. I'd only ever been in two television adverts (conning people into buying horrendously overpriced sofas and some cheap brand of alcohol which I was clearly born to be in) and one BBC feature film which was so ridiculously pointless that it didn't even get aired in the end. I never expected to actually be cast in a film, a film which miraculously sounded like it could be interesting to boot.

I'd sort of stumbled into being in a high school production when I was sixteen. I'd signed up because if you were in the school play you gained a free pass out of fifth period every day for a fortnight (which incidentally was geography. I hated geography with a passion) expecting to be casted as a tree in the background or something along those lines. Somehow though, I managed to audition for the wrong part, and the result was that I ended up with one of the main leads.

To my astonishment I found that I actually loved acting. It sort of resembled writing, in a strange type of way. Just like with writing, you had to get into the mind-set of the character and really emphasize with them. The only difference was that in acting you actually physically became that character for a little while on stage.

After that acting in school productions and then in local theatre groups, for me, acting became a sort of side project, a constant that I always fell back on whenever the time was ample. There'd be some points when I'd start to drift away from it (like I said, I've always been a drifter) but I'd always return to it in the end. In a way it was the only thing that I'd ever stuck with, through thick or thin. Sometimes I felt like acting was a part of me. It was my therapy, my escape.

Therefore obviously the answer to Colin Trent's question seemed pretty clear cut at the time. Afterwards I'd start to wish I'd thought through my answer a little bit more before opening my mouth. Then again, I always had been cursed with a complete lack of verbal filter.

"Yes, I'm interested," it seemed like I'd been shocked into silence for minutes. I wondered if the slightly worrying amount of pondering time I'd taken to think through what he had said made me dim-witted or a deep soul in his eyes. I was wavering towards the dim-witted. Then I moved on to contemplating whether he'd still hire a dim-wit. Now do you see what I mean about over-thinking?

"Well then, the part's yours. Your audition was fantastic to watch. You seem to really feel the emotion. Can you pop around the studio tomorrow morning, to sort out the contracts?"

"Um, sure," I felt as if I was in a daze as I pulled a pen out of my pocket and wrote the address down on a random beer mat.

Colin Trent said goodbye and hung up. I continued to stare at my mobile phone. At first I was confused. Apparently, Colin Trent had no qualms about hiring the dim-witted. Apparently, Colin Trent wanted to employ me, which made a nice change. Over the last year, I had experienced trouble finding employment in shoe shops.

My bewilderment evolved into an overwhelming sense of relief. The movie wasn't going to be big and it was a quirky indie sort of film but it would certainly pay the rent for the next few months, as well as funding drinking sprees. I wouldn't have to stress about being forced to move back in with my mum (the ultimate humiliation, having to admit that at almost twenty years of age, I could not provide for myself).

I didn't bother myself with the any further implications of my agreement to star in the movie. I just focused on the obvious. It was easier that way, symbolic of a simpler time, a time when I was satisfied just by being able to pay for a tatty flat in the cheapest part of London.

Needless to say, I broke the babysitting tradition that night, and joined Jasper in drinking until I could barely stand. This time though, it wasn't due to moroseness, it was a celebration.

***

**November 2007 - Edward is twenty-one**

Less than two years later, and I found it pretty hard to remember how my life used to be, which was kind of strange because it was only six months ago that it all started to spin out of control really.

'Three's a crowd' turned out to be just as I predicted. It didn't really make a huge profit, but it was never meant to be the sort of movie that did. It was an indie film, the type of movie that I'd watch at home on a regular basis. To my surprise, critics seemed to like my performance and before I knew it I was offered another job.

Then my 'big break' came along. I was offered the lead part in a film starring several reputable actors. I had no idea of why they would think I could contribute to the movie, but I would have been insane not to accept it. All the way through filming, I sort of expected somebody to jump out at me and yell 'you've been punked'.

When filming ended I was shoved into endless amounts of interviews. I did what I'd done for most of my life and talked tedious amounts of drivel to interviewer after interviewer. For some reason instead of being exasperated by my obvious idiocy and lack of anything interesting to say at all people seemed to connect with me.

To this day I am one hundred percent convinced that it was the film that did it. I am sure that they had information about the film shoved down their throats by the media and it made them think 'the majority of the cast in this film are renowned actors. Except for the lead guy, I've never heard of him. Never-mind, if he is starring alongside those actors he must be amazing' or 'wow, this movie has way hot guys in it. Never seen this guy before though. Never-mind he is totally hot' depending on their demographic. It certainly didn't have much to do with me. I have talked nonsense and made jokes that most people don't find funny my entire life, and people never took an interest in me before. Then again, I suppose becoming famous overnight does tend to make you more popular.

Hype is an extremely frightening idea and unfortunately for me this movie came with bucket-loads of it. Sometimes, when I tell people this they say that I must have predicted it, after all I myself had immediately recognized the remarkably good line up. I guess I just didn't consider the long term effects at the time. For some reason, I chose that point in my life to bury my over-thinking tendencies deep down when I could probably have made good use of them for once in my life. Irony is an irritating concept.

Now the moment of truth had arrived. It was premiere night of what was possibly the most hyped up movie of the past year. I was living in fear of the movie crashing and burning. Unlikely though it was with the actors that were involved, everything I touched had a nasty habit of crumbling where it stood. I didn't want this movie to crumble. For the first time in my life, I was actually proud of something that I had done. I had put my heart and soul into this movie.

I posed for photos on the Red Carpet (I find the term 'posing' slightly emasculating. If only there was a word to describe it that didn't make me sound like such a pansy. Unfortunately, I had developed an unfortunate habit of pouting for the camera so using the word posing was unavoidable) and flashes went off left, right and center. I hated this part of my job. Self- consciousness and awkwardness do not tend to bode well for photographs. Yet I found that I could tolerate it, for some absurd reason, rather than mocking my pictures numerous people tended to enjoy at looking at them (if only people reacted to me like that in real life). I figured that the hype had brain washed them all.

"Edward, look this way. Edward, here. Edward, Edward."

By this point I'd become fairly talented at blocking out the obnoxious shouts of the paparazzi. I managed to eliminate them to a muffled buzzing in the back of my brain, albeit a very annoying buzzing. I'd learned in just a few short months that paparazzi were the closest humans would ever get to resembling leeches. They just loved to suck the life out of you. Who knew you could find a profession that involved annoying the crap out of people?

I simply stood and stared at the cameras, all the while praying that I would not be blinded and that somebody, somewhere would appreciate the photos. After all, I wasn't particularly fond of masochism, and I certainly didn't want to endure all those flashes and calls for absolutely no reason. In a few short moments I'd be thrown into the metaphorical lion's den, the fan area where I'd sign autographs and be deafened by screams.

That was the first point when I realized I was no longer in control of my life. After that point it just became a fact. I was an actor, I was twenty-one years old and my own life was out of my hands. It was frightening. Yet at the same time it was strangely comforting to know that if it all went to pot, it would not be entirely my fault. You can find comfort in the strangest of places.

* * *

**Reviews are welcomed..... please.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer : 'Twilight' does not belong to me.**

**Chapter Three **

**Bella - November 2007**

_**Let me know that I've done wrong,When I've known this all along, I go around a time or two, Just to waste my time with you **_

_**- All-American Rejects, Dirty Little Secret  
**_

I would say that after the night at the cinema, or the night that I came to the realization that 'sexy actor man' was indeed incredibly sexy, it all happened gradually. I won't though, because on second thoughts I am not actually sure that it did. I'm moderately certain that within three weeks I was far gone enough to be officially classed as obsessed.

The peculiar fact of the matter is that at the time it did not even cross my mind that my behavior was borderline insane. How I could have come to the conclusion that watching every You-tube video featuring Edward Cullen known to humanity, practically stalking photos online and reading every single magazine article featuring him that I could afford was normal behavior is beyond me. Yet at the time, he just kind of instantly became a part of my daily routine : drag myself out of bed, survive school, do what homework was strictly necessary and read everything and anything about Edward. At first it was like a leisure activity, a hobby, but then as time passed it became so much more than that.

The morning after I saw the film at the cinema (which I later learned was not his debut film at all but the first one that featured him as the male lead), I watched Edward on morning television for the first time. It is a possibility that if I'd never seen his appearance on 'This Morning' I would have just gone on with my regular life, aware of Edward Cullen's uber sexiness, but not really majorly affected by it. However, I did in fact see him on the television and that was the factor that changed everything.

My fascination with him wasn't based purely on his looks. Believe me, I have never been particularly vain or judge-mental on appearances. I mean yes, I admit that while watching that seven minute television slot (perhaps drooling over the television describes it more aptly. Drooling would soon be like a conditioned reflex when looking at Edward, I was transforming into Pavlov's dog) I did keep finding more and more features that contributed to his beauty.

I noticed that his eyes were not always the color of the ocean. They changed color according to the lighting. Sometimes they were sea blue, sometimes they were emerald green ('preeeety green eyes, so full of wonder and despair') and sometimes they were grey. They were magical eyes, one of life's great mysteries (well as far as I was concerned anyway). They were always beautiful, no matter what the color.

I noticed that his smile was not as perfect as it first appeared to be. In fact, it was slightly lopsided, slightly crooked. In a way, that made him more perfect (I guess that didn't really make a lot of sense. It did not make his physical appearance perfect but it made him look more perfect to me. It humanized him and made less of an angel and more of a person). That crooked smile could make me forgot where I was standing, who was with me and what I was supposed to be doing at any given time. That smile should have been used as some kind of stun dart (for poor unsuspecting deer. I guess it would work on poor unsuspecting Bella's too. Either way would work).

Then like I said, I was transfixed by alternative factors, other than his blessed good-looks. He made me laugh half a dozen times, in a TV spot barely lasting half a dozen minutes. His dry sense of humor complimented my sarcastic and slightly morbid nature perfectly. Some of the ramblings that came out of his mouth were just so random, weird and utterly hilarious that I found myself unable to stop giggling. I never usually giggle, I tend to save that for the preppy cheerleader types. I just got him, it was as simple as that.

I'd never liked actors. Well obviously, I did not actually know any actors to like, but what I mean is that I'd never actually liked any of them as people. I'd never seen any of them in interviews and immediately admired them. Edward Cullen was different. I haven't ever managed to put my finger on what it was that made him so different. He was humble but he clearly wasn't the first humble actor to walk the planet. He could make me laugh, but so could Harry Hill, and I'd never developed a fascination with him. He seemed to be shell shocked but who wouldn't be in his situation?

In the end, I almost always put it down to two factors. The first was his vulnerability and the second was his 'I don't give a damn about what I'm wearing, whether I've shaved or whether my hair resembles road-kill' attitude.

His vulnerability made me want to protect him at once. At the time, it was the weirdest emotion I'd ever felt. I'd seen this guy in one film the night before and a seven minute television slot and I already wanted to keep him away from anything that might hurt him. Never in my entire life had I ever felt anything quite like it before. The only person I'd felt close to since I'd hit adolescence was my older brother and he was the one who always looked out for me, not the other way around. I liked my step-siblings well enough, but they looked after themselves far better than I could have. I loved my friends, but I operated with a strict 'let them learn by their own mistakes' policy. It worked out better that way. I'm a peaceful person for the most part and I would have been unable to bear unnecesary confrontations when telling them how to live their lives.

As a result of this, Edward Cullen was my first. He was my first in a lot of ways actually, but he was the first person I'd ever felt an irrepressible urge to protect from everything and anything.

It wasn't that he was a pussy, for a lack of a better word. I had never been able to bear soft 'mummy's boys' that looked like they'd cry if someone said so much as a bad word against them. He was vulnerable in a very understated way. He looked overwhelmed and slightly bewildered and it made me want to hug him and reassure him that everything was going to be okay.

Therefore, his vulnerability brought out my mother lioness side. In contrast to this, his 'I don't give a damn' attitude made me want to jump his bones. I didn't know whether it was the Doctor Martens, the unruly mop of hair, the cheekbones that could cut glass or the ripped jeans but I got the vibe that this guy would not conform to the public's assumptions of how a celebrity or 'role model' should look. He had that dangerous edge to his appearance that radiated sexiness yet I could tell just from listening to his allotted interview that he was sweet and kind natured. He had the traditional appearance of a 'bad boy' but his personality said different. He was a walking contradiction, just like me. He was a kindred spirit. Like I said, I just got him.

By the end of that interview I was a goner.

***

**January 2008**

I felt a little bit (okay maybe a lot), like screaming in frustration. My year was not off to a good start. The new year always brings a sense of hope and the feeling that you can start all over again. It can make you feel refreshed, excited and determined. Yet in a matter of days you realize that nothing has changed at all. You are still stuck in exactly the same ruts as before.

I remember the year we reached the new millennium, the year the date changed to the year 2000. I was only seven years old but I can still remember it pretty clearly. Everybody was buzzing with anticipation, expecting some world shattering event to occur. The main subject of conversation that evening was change and evolution. At the time I couldn't comprehend the meaning behind their talk. I kind of pictured aliens that had been waiting patiently for the new millennium, for some unknown reason, coming down from space and whisking us all off to live on a planet unlike anything we'd ever seen.

It took people all of a day to realize that the leap from 1999 to 2000 was no more significant than the leap from 1998 to 1999. Nothing had actually changed, the dawning of the new millennium didn't necessarily mean that their fortune would change or that they'd automatically become better people.

Since that year, for me every single new year has been a complete and utter disappointment, a none event (I'd really been curious about those aliens). This year, in that regard at least, was no different from any other.

"Bella, are you listening? Can you at least pretend to care about my problems?"

I sighed. No, of course I had not been listening. Sometimes it felt as though I was an empty vessel that my friends continuously threw heavy issues into until I began to sink below the surface. It didn't help that I wasn't very talented at swimming either. Just a few extra burdens was liable to tip me into the danger zone.

To my friends I was Bella, the reliable. The one who'd listen to their problems no matter how many of my own I was dealing with. Sometimes I wondered where in the world they got the assumption that I was dependable, reliable or practical minded. I'm a dreamer, incapable of ever tuning into a conversation in its entirety.

"Sorry, I just kind of tuned out. What were you saying?"

"God, Bella. I need your help just this once and you can't even be bothered to listen," Jess snapped.

"I'm sorry. I'm having a really crap day."

I was well aware that I was a complete and utter doormat. I seemed to be totally incapable of justifying myself. I'm sort of ashamed to admit that my apparent nonchalance at being snapped at is not because I am forgiving person or a tolerant person or a generous person: It's because I simply cannot cope with the backlash from having a row with somebody. The yelling, the sulking and the unavoidable apologies are so much more effort than they're worth. I content myself with conjuring up snippy comebacks in my head in order to satisfy my growing anger and frustration.

"_You're_ having a crappy day! Sometimes you're so selfish, Bella," she hung up on me.

Apparently I was stuck with conflict, whether I desired it or not. At times like these I sometimes pondered whether it would be easier just to cut all ties with other people. At the risk of sounding like your average whiny teenager, I really do not like people a whole lot the majority of the time. On an average day I am not particularly fantastic at concentrating and on days like today, which honestly had been a full blown disaster, I was worse than useless.

First of all, the levels of homework assignments I had been given was reaching preposterous levels. Organizational skills had never been my forte. I had an absurd tendency to put my homework to the back of my mind until the deadline was nearly upon me. This, of course, resulted in having endless amounts of leisure time some nights (or as I was beginning to call it 'Edward time' since that was pretty much how I spent any free time) and then on other nights I would be working flat out in a complete panic until 10pm. Like most things in my life, it was unbalanced to say the least.

Typically the heavens had decided to open and pour down upon me on my walk to school. The duration of the journey was only ten minutes but my the time I arrived my entire Biology folder resembled a soggy and extremely fragile piece of cardboard (it'd been tremendous fun trying to explain the whole incident to my temperamental teacher). Not only was I a shivering mess with dripping hair for the entirety of the morning but lunchtime found me attempting to salvage what I could of my Biology notes, while trying to ignore the horrendous noise levels in the school canteen.

As if that wasn't enough tragedy for one day, I'd eventually got home but instead of beating my rapidly declining bad mood away with extremely loud music I was subjected to a meaningful talk with my father. It's almost laughingly ironic that on any other day he would have just left me to my own devices but he chose today of all days to become concerned about my step-sister's welfare.

I honestly didn't mean to be so selfish. I liked my step-sister, I really did. She was one of those rare people that is almost unbelievably nice (a rare trait for any person but when the person in question is fourteen years old it is even more humbling), so nice in fact that when she first moved in along with my step-mum and younger brother I wasn't one hundred percent sure whether her apparent kindness was actually sarcasm or her way of mocking me (you know the type of person I mean. When they say 'your rooms so cosy' you wonder if they are actually implying that it is a total pig sty). We now had a relationship built on mutual respect. We were polite to one another, I'd offer her assistance with her homework, but we weren't exactly close enough for girly discussions or hugs or whatever. I guess that sort of worked to our advantage in a way. When you think about it you never really row with people who you aren't really very close to. It's always those who you love the most who you row with. Maybe I'd built up some kind of defense mechanism without even realizing it. Perhaps my lack of closeness with all members of my household was actually a clever ploy to avoid as many confrontations and arguments as possible.

"Sue thinks that Leah might be having some problems at school. Have you seen her around school lately?" Dad asked me.

"No, I don't think so. I don't see her in school very often. I'll keep an eye out from now on though."

To be honest it wasn't exactly shocking news that Leah was experiencing 'problems' (could there be a more obvious euphemism was bullying?). In an ideal world Leah being such a genuinely good person would mean that she'd have a wonderful life and everybody in school would adore her. Obviously we do not live in an ideal world and people are downright hateful sometimes. We live in a world where 'survival of the fittest' is put into practice on a regular basis in everyday life rather than just in science and history class. My step-sister's niceness made her weak, the weak are frequently pounced upon.

"Thanks, Bells. Sometimes I don't know what we'd do without you."

I had to stifle a laugh at that comment. To be honest I really don't do anything remotely helpful for my father or step-family. Most of time I simply retreat into the ever present land of daydreams in my head. I guess maybe that was maybe his point. I can't cause much havoc when I spend most of my life in my own head as opposed to at house parties and crashing bars. Some parents would probably worry endlessly about my lack of social life and disinterest in communication. My father, however, was just relieved that I caused as less destruction as possible.

"What would you do if I got into trouble?" I said jokingly.

"I know, you'd never do that. You're far too sensible."

"What do you mean?" I was genuinely curious.

"You never keep secrets from me, you always think about what you're doing. You're not the type of kid that has problems. You're a good kid."

"Aw, thanks dad. I'm going up to my room to do my homework now. See you later."

He smiled at me as he retreated into the sitting room. I went up to my room, switched on my computer and looked around me. Every inch of my wall was covered with images of Edward Cullen. If I'd built a shrine to him my obsession couldn't have been made any more obvious.

My dad thought that I wasn't 'the type of kid who had problems'. It all depended upon what you classed as a problem. I assume that most people would view my 'acute fondness' for Edward Cullen as a problem. Especially since I'd passed the boundaries of a healthy obsession weeks prior. To be honest I hadn't just passed them, I'd sprinted across them without looking back for a moment. I had always taken everything to the extreme, even as a small child. If I enjoyed a lesson at school I'd have to be top of the class in that particular subject. If I liked a television programme it wasn't enough to catch it when it was convenient, I needed to watch it every single day. Now I'd taken my obsession with Edward Cullen to the extreme.

Even at that point it was starting to dawn on me that it was unhealthy. Then again so are a lot of things in life. Alcohol and cigarrettes kill off your insides, drugs destroy you and junk food clogs up your arteries. People just tend to figure that the benefits outweigh the risks. That's what I did with Edward Cullen.

It didn't matter that what I was doing was weird (when hadn't anything I'd done or said been classed as weird as a matter of fact?). I'd endured the day from hell and all I wanted to do now was lose myself in one of his interviews. Sure enough, his voice made it all significantly better straight away. His pronounced accent, his infectious laugh and his beautiful smile had a calming effect on me. Even at this point no matter what the situation he made it better.

To be blunt he made me happy. Everything about him made me happy. Other people might not see that as particularly astonishing. After all most people are generally happy for the majority of the time unless something is bothering them. I, on the other hand, was rarely happy. I know this sounds ridiculous but sometimes I'd look around and see other people laughing and smiling and think 'this is it? I'm supposed to be happy about this?'. Edward stopped that feeling of abnormality, of bewilderment. He could make me laugh, he could make me smile.

I was determined to hold on that feeling for as long as possible.

****

**March 2008**

I'm not the type of person that can scan back through their memories and recall entire conversations. Saying that however, there is one conversation in particular that I think I'll always remember. If I had to hazard a guess I'd say that I was around thirteen years old when it took place. I cannot recall the reason for the particular discussion topic but that's not really important anyway.

"I can't believe she just said that. She does my head in sometimes," Lauren, one of my closest friends at the time, had rowed with Jess yet again (it is quite comforting to know that some people never change).

"Well, you did wind her up. You know what she's like," I despised the tension that lingered in the air after rows, it raised my anxiety levels to ridiculous levels.

"Yes, I do know what she's like but that doesn't make it any less irritating. You're so much easier to get along with."

"Um, how?"

"You don't just randomly blow up at people. You don't let it get to that point. You're really open and it's easy to tell what you're thinking so you can tell when something is upsetting you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're not very good at hiding what you're thinking. That's why I like you so much. You're not deep."

"Ouch."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's good to be an open book. Like I said it's why I'm friends with you."

Lauren was one hundred percent off the mark with her perception of me. Sometimes I wonder if she would have befriended me if she hadn't made such presumptions about me. I was anything but an open book. I'd spent my the entirety of my life masking my feelings.

When my mother emigrated I could sense that my dad was confused at my lack of palpable distress. I figured that he had enough on his plate already with his wife completely disregarding the point of wedding vows and taking off with a man half his age, without the added stress of anticipating my upcoming emotional breakdown. I faked anger and distress so he'd think that the storm was over as far as I was concerned. In actual fact after the day she actually left I felt close to nothing towards my mother's departure. She'd already gone and at the age of ten I had realized that people will do exactly as they wish regardless of how you feel about their actions.

Then there was the faking of countless emotions in my everyday life. There was the ever current feigning of interest when my friends were talking. There was the faking of enjoyment when my dad tried to 'bond' with me by taking me outings to the zoo (bless my dad, he would never have understood why a thirteen year old wouldn't particularly care for trailing around looking for polar bears with her dad). There was keeping up the pretense of not minding my stepmother invading my personal space (my bedroom) with her beloved duster when actually it aggravated me beyond belief. I was practically an expert at hiding my emotions and feelings. Apparently I was so fantastic at it that my friends thought I was an 'open book'.

From that point on I carried a certain quiet confidence about myself in regards to the fact that my thoughts were more or less impenetrable. In this case I was more or less relying on it. I really didn't believe that my dad or my step-sister would be comfortable with how excited the thought of seeing Edward Cullen walk down a red carpet to present an award for twenty seconds was causing me to become. For some reason, I don't think that they'd accept it without some doubtlessly uncomfortable questions.

I'd sat downstairs, jiggling my foot as an outlet for my internal excitement, for hours waiting for them to exit the sitting room and leave me to it. I didn't want anybody to witness the pile of quivering goo I was likely to become when I caught a glimpse of him. He'd been evading the paparazzi for weeks now and I felt like I was in withdrawal, Edward was my drug and without my regular fix I was a bumbling heap of nerves. In a way this felt like our reunion, even if it was depressingly one sided.

I don't think I can correctly convey just how stirred up I was as I anticipated his appearance. I definitely don't have the correct words to express the feelings I experienced when I eventually did spot him amongst the mass of celebrities.

The only way I can think of to express it is that the most vital organ in my body just fled my body. I saw him and it was like 'badabing and the heart is gone'. My heart was gone. It had fled to him. It was his and he didn't even know it, didn't even know me.

My Edward (Yes I know he didn't belong to me in any shape or form but that was how I thought of him. In my head at least he was mine), looked beyond beautiful in a tux. Prior to seeing Edward on that night, I'd never felt such obvious lust in my whole life. I was fifteen years old (albeit very close to sixteen) and my thoughts were out of control. I felt like a pervert. Unfortunately the way he looked was making it beyond difficult to bring myself to care.

He looked beautiful (there really was no other word to describe it) but at the same time he resembled sex personified. In my eyes he stood out from all the other clumps of actors and actresses on that carpet like a shining beacon. He didn't belong there with all of the fakes and phoneys. Even while posing for the endless lines of cameras he still let slip glimpses of his underlying goofiness. He cracked a self depreciating joke for the interviewer and ran his hand through his constantly messy hair (the hair could not even be tamed for a prestigious awards ceremony) which betrayed his masked nerves. Even on the Red Carpet he was still my Edward.

In that moment I knew that it was too late for me, I was spent. I'd given my heart to Edward Cullen, gift-wrapped and all. It wasn't a silly infatuation that would pass and allow me to replace him in my affections with the next 'big thing'. He was permanently etched upon my heart.

I loved him and that was when the problems really began.

* * *

**A/N - I'd be extremely grateful if anybody could spare the time to review. :). I know that the beginning is kind of slow but it's just the way it ended up when I wrote it. They'll meet soon, I promise. Plus, try and keep an open mind about the age difference. Obviously they're not going to have a relationship when Bella's only fifteen.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer : I do not own 'Twilight'. I just like to mess with the characters.**

**A/N - Thank-you to the people who have favourite my story. It makes me happy to know that you're interested.**

**Chapter Four**

**Edward - April 2008**

_**You wanna run away, run away, Just get on the fucking train and leave today, And it doesn't matter where you spend the night, You just might end up somewhere in a fight, in a fight. Or calling your room on a concrete shelf, Fighting all alone, with yourself, with yourself, And you just wanna feel like a coin that's been tossed, In a wishing well, a wishing well, A wishing well, a wishing well, Well you're tossed in the air, And you fell and you fell, Through the dark blue waters, Where you cast your spell, Like you were just a wish that could turn out well. So you stand on the corner, Where the angels sit, And you think to yourself, "This is it, this is it, This is all that I have, All I can stand, Is this air in my lungs, And this coin in my hand"**_

_**- The Airborne Toxic Event, Wishing Well**_

Sometimes I felt so frustrated and angry at myself that I felt a very peculiar urge to tear my own hair out at the roots (I could practically hear my publicist's snippy voice in my ear whenever I got to this point. 'Not your hair, Edward, the public love your hair, rip off a finger instead') or naw through my lip. I guess at times these masochistic feelings actually worked out to my advantage. I'd tug at my horrifically disobedient hair, contemplating just how much pain ripping it out would cause, and could practically hear the collective gasp from the teenage population ('omg, he's so hot'). I'd nibble on my lip subconsciously and suddenly I would be almost blinded by overenthusiastic members of the paparazzi ('this photo'll bring in the big bucks. They love it when he nibbles on his lip').

I'd never particularly liked myself but then again who does really? I'd spent the entirety of my adolescent years praying for the miraculous appearance of a six pack, wishing I had the guts to say what I was thinking and just hoping that someday I'd become slightly cooler, less goofy, awkward and idiotic. Now, though, I was guilty of betraying myself, putting myself in a position that I resented.

I may not have ever have been remotely decisive but I'd always been clear on one particular idea. I would never allow myself to be put into a box that I could not claw my way out of. I was determined not to become that guy who spends forty years of his life stacking shelves or the guy who ends up hooked on drugs that he will never be able to live without. I didn't ever intend to make a decision that I could not go back on if need be. I had made far too many stupid decisions in my life to allow myself to stick to them.

When I accepted Colin Trent's offer I had put myself into a box. To be honest it was probably more of a fish bowl. I was 'Edward the actor', 'Edward Cullen from that big film' and 'Edward Cullen out of OK!Magazine' but I was no longer just 'Edward the person'.

That of course leads to all kinds of issues. When you're depicted as a possession, who belongs to the fans and the paparazzi, you suddenly find yourself unable to eat a meal in public without being interrupted, unable to so much as cross the front door without having hoards of cameras shoved in your face and idiotic questions hurled at you.

I was in a box or a fish bowl or whatever you'd like to refer to it as. I couldn't free myself from it because even if I just said 'screw it all, I never intended to be an actor anyway' and quit the mania wouldn't just disappear. It'd still be there but I'd have given up a job that I really loved too. I had to wait until someone would release me from the box. The sad fact of the matter was that I was terrified that by the time I was released I would have lost the person I was before.

I'm not about to lie and say that the entire situation was a complete screw up though. For the first time in my life I actually had money, which was a novel concept for me. It was partly due to the fact that acting obviously pays a hell of a lot better than working in clothes shops and waitering in restaurants did. However it was also a direct result of not being allowed to drink the money away. Believe me, in the old days it would not have been as unlikely as you'd think for me to drink away a few million pounds. When you're in the public eye you cannot act like that unless you wish to join the ranks of the unemployed.

I was earning unbelievable amounts of money doing a job that I loved, a job that was in a way was like free therapy for me (you know that old saying, 'leave it all on the stage'? Well I lived by that saying. I'd literally put everything that I had into the acting job I was working on. All that rage, frustration and fear was forever being left behind on the stage). The downside was that in the process I'd sold my soul to the Devil.

When I was kid and I was constantly forced into conforming to some kind of stereotype, whether it be a chav or an indie or a nerd, I'd balked at the whole sorry situation. I just knew that I was never going to act in a specific manner or listen to a certain genre of music because it was expected of me. They could take me or leave me but I was not changing for anyone. As it went the majority of my school mates left me. It meant that I was a bit of an outsider, a loner, but at least I was happy.

Now I'd become the ultimate stereotype. I was Edward the 'teen heartthrob of the month', constantly forced into appearing on chat shows such as the one I was condemned to today, simply for the sake of allowing the teeny boppers a few minutes of allotted screaming time. The disconcerting factor was that they didn't even scream for me. They screamed for the 'It boy' that for some incomprehensible reason it had been deemed cool to 'fancy' for the moment at least. I was not an 'It boy'. I was an impersonator.

"Oh, hello. I didn't see you there for a moment. Are you waiting to go on the show?"

I jerked out of my contemplative bubble like I'd been scorched. I despised it when people caught me off guard. Becoming a hot commodity practically overnight had taken its toll on me in some ways. I was a hell of a lot more nervous and jumpy than I'd been before the whole incident. Sometimes I felt as though I needed to put a mask on in preparation for any upcoming meetings. I needed to be 'Edward, who's happy go lucky and loving life' rather than 'Edward who's as confused as fuck about everything and anything'.

I offered my hand to the attractive blonde woman who was smiling at me. Her long hair was clipped back and gentle waves framed her delicate face. Her tight white button up shirt drew attention to her curves whereas her plain black ballet pumps gave her an aura of innocence.

"Yes, I am," I could not control an involuntary grimace as I anticipated being put into the spotlight for another five minutes.

"Are you nervous?" the woman seemed to pick up on my distaste.

"A little. I'm little a bit frightened of large numbers of people," I chuckled nervously.

"I'm sure they won't bite. You'll be fine. I'm Tanya by the way."

"I'm Edward."

"I knew who you were of course. My younger sister loved the last film you did."

After that the conversation flowed fairly easily with Tanya. She was one of the rare people that I had crossed paths with since 'Blue Noon' became a box office hit that I felt comfortable talking to. I wasn't entirely certain why this was the case because it usually took me several encounters to be truly comfortable with interacting with someone. You can call it trust issues or whatever you like but I was never truly convinced that the person with whom I was conversing with wasn't digging for dirt on me which they could therefore sell to trashy magazines. With Tanya however, I wasn't faking enjoyment at the conversation, the words flowing from her lips truly interested me.

Tanya was an actress. Not a film actress like myself but a actress in musicals in the West End. She was the type of person that I considered to be a 'real actress'. She was smart and attractive. Just like that I had a crush.

"Edward Cullen? You need to go into the studio through exit two in thirty seconds. You ready?" unfortunately all good conversations have to end.

"Yes, I'm all set," I smiled nervously at the attendant.

You'd assume that I'd have learned to adjust to appearing on chat shows and answering questions about my personal life. However there are some things that practicing never perfects. Chat-shows and I were always a disaster zone. It was simply unavoidable that I'd say at least one incriminating and plain idiotic remark which would appear in tabloids for the next six months and cause my manager and publicist to yell at me down the phone over.

"You'll be great. Just smile and it'll all be fine," Tanya rubbed my arm, leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

Before I fully comprehended what was happening I was pushed forward into the studio. The lights glared down on me harshly and I was certain that every single flaw, every scar and flaw on my face, was highlighted for all to see and mock. The applause was deafening and I fought back a panic attack.

Then I was saved, rescued by a girl that I barely knew, although admittedly I was aware that I would like to know her much more intimately. Inside my scrunched up fist was a business card with Tanya's number wrote across in an italic font.

_Tanya Denali_

_07798743775_

That small scrap of paper made me smile. She thought I was worth it even after she spoke to me and doubtlessly realized that I am not the man they portray me as in magazines. She didn't think I was a hopeless fuck up who didn't have the balls to cope in the movie industry. To her I was worth a bit of effort.

That small bit of knowledge gave me the strength to smile as I faced the storm of prying questions and squealing fans.

***

**September 2008 - Edward is twenty-two**

_Dear Edward,_

_I know you probably won't even read this letter but I wanted to give it a shot anyway. I just wanted to tell you that you are far too hard on yourself in interviews. At times I get the feeling that you think of yourself as pointless. You're as far away from pointless as you can possibly be._

_I am eighteen years old, in a few months I have to make major life decisions and I am clueless about my future. I was kind of beginning to assume that my future career will be that of a toilet cleaner (no offense intended if you know anybody who is a toilet cleaner). _

_Then I watched one of your interviews and you said that you had no idea about what you wanted to do with your life when you were my age, that you still don't really know how you became an actor. That simple statement gave me hope for my own future. Not everyone is as talented or just as plain amazing as you obviously but it still made me think that perhaps everything will work out for me. _

_You give hope to people just by being yourself. I think you're amazing._

_Lots of love and the best of luck,_

_Lucy_

_XXX_

I refolded the letter and placed it in the back pocket of my jeans. Letters like that one ignited a kind of buzz inside of me. Obviously I couldn't take any credit for helping girls like Lucy because I did not actively do anything to aid them. I was not really qualified to help anyone, I'd spent half of my life unable to help myself. Yet it was still refreshing in a way to know that even if it was simply because I appeared in a few films that made reasonable amounts of money and talked about my depressingly unexciting life for a few minutes on camera I had made a difference to somebody. For a few seconds I almost felt worthwhile.

Unfortunately that feeling does not last forever, usually it does not even last more than ten minutes. For every sweet and genuine person like Lucy you can rest assured that there is a nut-case lurking in the shadows, about to make their presence known. There is always calm before a storm.

I sighed and opened the next letter.

_Dear Edward,_

_I am your biggest fan. I love your last film. It was very funny. Next I think you should be in a action film. You'd be a good super hero. I saw fotos of you in a magasine a few days ago. You were with a girl. You could do better than her. She had a big nose and wasn't very pretty. I think I'm pretty. I went to the cinema once with a boy in my class at school and he said i was pretty. If I ever see you in the street i will ran over to you and kiss you. I think you'd like me. If you were with that ugly girl I would stil kiss you. I dont care about her I don't like her. I like you though._

_Love from,_

_Amy, Exeter._

I briefly wondered about Amy's age. Surely nobody over the age of twelve would ignore the rules of grammar and spelling in such an obnoxious manner? She was apparently old enough to go on dates to the cinema with boys who thought she was pretty. She didn't seem to be educated in fan letter etiquette either. Most people tended to realize that threatening sexual assault and insulting my girlfriend would not win my heart. Apparently, Amy was oblivious. Either oblivious or slightly unhinged.

"Nice. Definitely sounds like your type of girl."

I looked up and saw that my older brother, Emmett, had been reading over my shoulder.

"Yes, I always go for the slightly insane ones," I rolled my eyes.

Emmett chuckled.

"I'll have you know, that I am perfectly sane," Tanya emerged from my dining room and took her place beside me on the sofa.

"You are the exception. You are also obviously the best," I smiled as I kissed her on the forehead.

As Tanya snuggled into my side, Emmett faked vomiting rather noisily.

"I guess I'll leave you two lovebirds to it then. I've got a hot date anyway."

"You? Hot date? Who with?" I snorted.

"The lovely Rose."

"She must be a saint to endure a date with you."

"Says the brooding emo pillock," Emmett stuck his tongue out in my direction.

"Hey, I'm not that bad am I, Tanya?"

"You guys are like six years old. When are you going to grow up," Tanya rolled her eyes.

I couldn't resist hitting her with my best puppy dog eyes.

"Stop sulking, babe. You know I love you," she touched her lips to mine, she could never resist the puppy dog eyes. They were my secret weapon.

"I love you too."

Everybody loved Tanya. My brother treated her like one of the family, my mother constantly sung her praises and Jasper constantly informed me that I was a 'lucky bastard' for landing a girl like her. However most importantly, I loved her an awful lot. She accepted the downsides of my lifestyle and she laughed off our constant failed attempts at going on dates like normal people. She kept me sane.

"I'm off. See you later," Emmett headed for the door.

"Hang on, I thought your car was at the garage?" I recalled an earlier snippet of conversation.

"It is. There is an invention called the tube. Us mere mortals make use of it."

"Low blow, Emmett, low blow. The tube sucks, everyone knows that. Do you want me to give you a lift?"

"A lift would be good, if you don't mind. I could do with the extra time to make myself look hot for Rose."

"You'll need at least a day to make yourself look anywhere near hot. Perfection isn't achieved easily. You just don't have what it takes."

"We can't all be poster boys for teenage girls, Eddie."

"For god's sake, knock if off you two. Let's go, I'll come with you and we can call at the off license on the way back," Tanya piped up.

I grabbed my black leather jacket, stuffed my feet into my slip on black and blue vans and opened the front door. At once I was assaulted by what felt like dozens of flashing lights. Apparently the paparazzi were using the opportunity of a quiet day to set up camp outside of my house.

I looked back at Tanya and Emmett. Emmett pulled a face but followed me out of the door and Tanya sent me a 'what can you do?' wry smile. I led the way up the shabby garden path. My publicist had been nagging me for months to rent a gardener. She seemed to think that living in a house with an overgrown

garden was not the public image that I should be aiming for. I refused time and time again to change yet another aspect of my life in an attempt to please people who were rarely ever fully satisfied.

"Hey, Edward. How's your day been? Lunch with the family huh? Must be getting serious?"

"Edward! Smile for the camera."

"Your girlfriends looking good today, Cullen. You going to give her a kiss for the cameras?"

"Hey, Cullen, look this way. I heard your girlfriend's knocked up. Am I right?"

"Are you up the duff sweetie? You should try and get a diamond ring out of him."

It took every drop of the self discipline that I had taught myself over the last two years to maintain a blank, emotionless expression. The crude remarks made me want to curse at them. However the public do not approve of cursing and I had a reputation to live up to.

I was Edward Cullen, the guy who was born for stardom. I was Edward who could endure all of the irritating catcalls and obnoxious remarks because I was dignified and mature.

The Edward who was liable to snap and lose the ever fragile grip on his temper and say something that he might regret in the very near future was buried deep down inside. He could not be allowed to resurface no matter how much I was preyed upon by the paparazzi.

I needed Tanya to get me through this ordeal.

I turned to seek the comfort she would no doubt enfold me with as I opened the door of my silver Volvo. I expected a look of comfort and nonchalance to be upon her beautiful features as was the protocol in these types of situations. I never anticipated the expression of exhaustion and frustration that marred her face. She carried the look of a defeated woman.

As she and Emmett seated themselves in the back seat of my car my first reaction to her expression was anger. After all I had never asked for my life to transform into the circus that it had become. She was supposed to my rock, my anchor to reality. Without her reassuring smiles I was floating above the ground unsure of whether a particularly dangerous gust of wind could carry me away from normality and sanity forever. I needed her and she was well aware of that.

My selfish and hideously in-just anger dissapitated as soon as a realization hit me like a punch to the guts. Tanya comforted me but she had no-one to comfort in return. After all I could hardly protect her from the frenzy and mayhem that I had inflicted upon her myself simply by allowing her into my life. I was giving her nothing in return for helping me through the insanity that surrounded me.

I had no right to blame her for anything at all. Like Tanya, I was wearing a mask that hid the person I really was from the public and in turn allowed them to think of me as a perfect being. The only person who truly saw the man behind the mask was Tanya. Now however, I knew that I'd have to wear a second mask, a mask that hid my guilt and unease over what I had unintentionally done and taken from Tanya, and this time even she could not be allowed to see through it. In turn, she was wearing a mask that doubtlessly hid her resentment towards me from my view. We were both hiding now, unable to ever reveal ourselves fully due to the repercussions of how damaging it would be to our relationship. The problem is, it's only a matter of time until masks start to slip.

* * *

**A/N - This is very much an Edward and Bella story, we just have not got to the main part of the story yet. Patience, my friends :).**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - Thanks again to those people who are favourited this story. It's nice to know that some people are reading lol. Otherwise it'd just be me rambling to myself. Which at the moment it is anyway... never mind.**

**Disclaimer : I don't own 'Twilight'. I do however own red heart shaped sunglasses. Cos I rock like that ;).**

**Chapter Five **

**Bella**

_I'm so in love with you, I just don't know what I should do, I'll do nothing I'll just dream, I never seem to get it right. It seems that I, I don't know how to say goodbye, and if I did I'd surely cry, I lie, If it's a choice between you and me, then I'd go for life, here's why, I never really thought that you liked me anyway_

_- The Pigeon Detectives, Don't Know How To Say Goodbye_

I once read that love needs to be reciprocal or your feelings are nothing more than a crush that has been blown out of proportion.

You know that part of 'The Lion King', when Raffiki instructs Simba to look into the pond but he can't see anything of significance so Raffiki simply tells him to look harder? In my opinion, the person who wrote the above definition of love needs to look harder.

Unrequited love is everywhere. It can result from your other half dying and leaving you behind. It can stem from loving a person who already belongs to somebody else. It can happen when you simply never summon up the guts to tell the other person how you feel. Apparently, the seeds of unrequited love can also be planted when you randomly turn up at the cinema one gloomy evening and manage to change the very course of your life. Who'd have thought it?

I never doubted that I loved Edward Cullen for a single moment. Love may have snuck up on me and taken me completely by surprise, but once I identified it I had never been more certain of anything in my entire life. It was just like I had always imagined it would be. There was no doubt, no confusion, just intense understanding. It became a fact, a part of me. The sky was blue, there were 12 months in a year and I loved Edward Cullen.

In a way, my realization of love stomped on the entire world I had built around me and crushed it into the dust. Before that point, my fascination with Edward had been entirely positive as far as I was concerned. There had been no thinking involved, it had all been based purely on instinct. Loving him made me think about ideas that I'd rather have remained buried under a rock named denial. It caused me to admit that my feelings for him were unhealthy and ridiculous. It made me realize that this 'thing' with Edward was permanent and it forced me to consider the possible implications of this.

I recognized the difference between love and a crush a very long time ago. Love hurts. I suppose that some people will argue that crushes can hurt too, but in my opinion crushes hurt because when they are rejected and it is your pride that takes a blow. Crushes leave a tiny dent on your dignity and ego, but love leaves a permanent and deep scar that cannot be erased.

The year I turned 16 I compiled by own definition of love.

**Bella Swan's definition of love**

Love is when you'd willingly take all their burdens in addition to your own if it would protect them from pain or hurt. Love is thinking about a person and feeling your insides churning. Love is knowing without a doubt that you'd sacrifice everything to be with them. Love is acknowledging a person's faults but accepting those blips are a part of them and without them they wouldn't be the same person. Love is needing somebody so badly that you physically ache for them. Love is looking at a person and being torn over whether you want to take them into an embrace and keep them safe for the rest of their life or screw them senseless. Love is Edward Cullen.

****

**June 2008 - Bella is 16**

For as long as I could remember, I had been unable to decide whether I preferred winter or summer.

When winter arrives it brings alongside it a blanket of darkness. As a small child, I was petrified of the dark and the threat of monsters under the bed that came as a package with it. Once I hit adolescence I embraced the dark, it became my security blanket. The basic bit of common sense that had evaded me as a child was that if you can't see anybody then it only makes sense that nobody can see you. In the dark you become invisible.

The summer is a perfect contrast to winter. When the sun beats down upon you and you lie on the daisy sprinkled grass a sensation of pure peace washes over you. As nonsensical as it sounds, I'd always wanted to be a wave in the ocean. The sound of the sea and the shrieks of the seagulls allow you to be engulfed by an illusion of total freedom. Soaking up the sunshine was the closest I ever got to being a wave.

In a way, it was never about summer versus winter for me. It was the ultimate battle: The fight between security and peace. Security is the defender of happiness, whereas peace is the attacker. For the first 15 years of my life the match was a draw.

During the sixteenth year a victor finally emerged, summer won. From that year on summer was associated with first love. I could no longer see the sunshine without remembering the summer of 2008, the summer of Edward, and the sun shower of photographs and bliss that came with it.

One cloudless day sticks out in my mind in particular.

Jess, Angela, Lauren and I were hanging out on the patch of grass that overlooked the skate park (prime spot for boy watching). Angela was poring over the fashion advice page in Cosmo, Lauren was lying spread-eagled on a picnic blanket, Jess was painting her fingernails 'hot pink' and I was catching up the latest batch of Edward photos on my newly purchased Blackberry.

"Bellaaa. What are you doing?"

Jess' amused tone led me to feel positive that she was fully aware of my current activity.

"I'm on the internet."

"Looking at what, exactly?"

"New photos of Edward," I sighed knowing when I was defeated.

I guess the fact that we referred to Edward on a purely first name basis in casual conversation demonstrates how far gone I was.

"You're obsessed," Jess rolled her eyes.

"He's not even that hot," Lauren yawned, in her usual bored and 'too cool for school' tone.

By this point, I'd learned from first hand experience that defending Edward was fairly pointless and only achieved a sense of embarrassment on my part. Therefore I maintained what I hoped was a dignified silence despite the fact that I was on the verge of coming up with a snappy retort.

"I saw one of his interviews last week and he clearly thought he was way funnier than he actually was," sometimes I got the feeling that Lauren enjoyed deliberately goading me. Who knew 'Bella baiting' was such a rewarding past time?

"That is a matter of opinion. Anyway what were you even doing watching his interviews, if he annoys you so much?" I fought to keep my voice nonchalant.

"Ooooh, Bella's getting defensive. Admit it Bella, he's a dork," Jess sniggered.

Barely six months ago, Jessica had practically salivated at the thought of Edward. Now, she denied ever having a crush on him. Fickleness was something I'd always despised in my peers. I had a naturally loyal personality. Whether it was hobbies, crushes or friends I stood by them doggedly. Even when said friends were irritating the heck out of me.

"I like that he's a dork. It's hot," that statement was one hundred percent the truth.

I had seen exactly six photos of Edward Cullen wearing reading glasses. I knew the exact number because every time the glasses came out to play, I lost what little control I had over myself. To say the least, I had a glasses fetish. Fuck, did Edward Cullen make them look sexier than any man had the right to. I swear that in an alternative life he would have made the hottest librarian ever to walk the face of the Earth.

Lauren nearly choked on her rather obnoxious laughter.

"Aw, leave Bella alone guys," Angela chimed in but even she could not hold back a snort of laughter.

"Bella has a dork fetish! Haha. Who knew," Lauren teased.

"Haha. There is nothing wrong with dorks. It's really not that funny. At least I don't have a druggie fetish, unlike some people," I said pointedly.

"Tyler was not a druggie! He used recreationally. He wasn't addicted. Honestly, Bella," Lauren tossed her silky hair and peered at me over her designer sunglasses.

"Chill, guys. Bella, you're are awfully defensive of this guy. What, do you love him or something?" Jess intervened.

Usually I operated on a strict honesty policy. As much as I'd like to claim honorable intentions, it was mainly because I am truly talentless at the art of lying. Even on the few occasions I had gotten away with lying, they had a habit of returning to haunt me in later days.

In this case, I was not convinced that honesty was the best policy. Loving Edward had led me down a particularly dark and depressing train of thought. Just how screwed up does a person have to be to fall in love with a man they've never actually met? On some occasions I'd seriously contemplated whether I needed to see a psychiatrist about my 'issues'. The awkwardness of explaining to my father just why I needed to see a shrink was the factor that put me off. Plus, I was not particularly eager to pay good money for a so-called professional to inform me that I was screwed up, when I was already fully aware of that concept.

I had no desire for my friends to realize the extent of my abnormality. I wasn't sure that they'd accept it, whether they'd still be capable of accepting me.

"Oh my god! You do! You love him, don't you?" Jessica shrieked far louder than I was comfortable with.

Suddenly both Angela and Lauren were following the conversation with almost amusing interest.

"Um....yeah. Is that weird?" the awkwardness of this conversation had now reached intergalactic levels.

"Dur, it's totally weird. Whatever. We already knew you were weird, Bella. Ange, can I read Cosmo now?" Jess shrugged and held her hand out.

Angela handed over the magazine, plucked a daisy out of the grass, gave me a wry smile and began to create a daisy chain.

"God, Bells I love you, but you're a freak. Put you're sunglasses on, you're squinting. Unless you want dorky glasses too," Lauren rolled her eyes.

I pulled my red heart-shaped vintage sunglasses over my eyes and felt a bubble of relief swell inside of me. Apparently, teenagers were extremely accepting of abnormal love. At that moment I'd never been more appreciative of my friends in my entire life.

****

**August 2008**

In the Swan household, family dinners in which we all sat around a table together were a rarity. There was a very good reason for this. When the whole 'family' gathered around together it was akin to a group of polite acquaintances at a business lunch. By this I meant that small talk was inevitable and unavoidably uncomfortable and awkward silences were the norm.

Like I said before, I didn't harbor any intense hatred or grudges towards my family. It's just that I was not particularly attached to any of them, I didn't really feel anything towards them. It wasn't that my feelings about them were negative. The problem was that I felt nothing at all. I would have said that somewhere along the line we'd grown apart but I didn't really think that we were ever on the same page in the first place.

My father spent far more time than it is strictly healthy dwelling on his job as a CID officer for Durham Borough. Sue, my step-mum, had her beloved housework and volunteer work as a carer for the elderly to focus on. Leah and my ten year old step-brother, Seth, had their own friends and their natural father and extended family that I had no involvement with. My main passions in life were reading, music (I had played the clarinet and saxophone since I was nine. Listening to music was my escape, playing music was my creative outlet) and now I had Edward and I admittedly had very little interest for anything else. We were all very different people and in a way we all lived different lives.

Despite all of this however, I loved my older brother, Jacob. This was why the family dinner on this occasion was slightly more bearable than normal. Jake was at the University Of Leeds studying engineering and was currently working towards his Masters' degree. I understood why he didn't visit home often but it didn't stop me from missing him. After mum left Jacob was my sunshine, the only person who could make me feel warm and loved anymore.

"So, are you finding it hard to cope financially at the moment, Jacob?" Sue's attempt at conversation was mediocre at best.

See what I meant about small talk? It was as if we were all strangers who didn't live in the same house and see each other on a daily basis (obviously Jake was the exception).

"I'm coping. My part time job helps I guess," Jake shrugged as he picked at his chicken casserole.

"Have you been out a lot?" my father inquired as he reached over me to get to the salt.

"Sure, what else is the summer for? When term starts again I'll probably knuckle down more," Jake grinned.

"Yeah right, Jake. I believe that," I snorted at my brother.

"Exactly what are you implying, Bells?" Jake teased.

"Well, your idea of knuckling down is having three drinks a night, instead of ten," I rolled my eyes.

"Jared from school had ten drinks once and passed out on the middle of the path. Kaya posted the pictures all over Facebook. How come you can drink that many?" Leah chimed in, laughing.

"I guess I just have a superhuman alcohol tolerance," Jake mimed puffing out his chest.

"Wow. Will you teach me to be superhuman like you?" Seth's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Are you kidding? Don't listen to him Leah, he passes out all of the time. I was talking to his girlfriend on MSN the other day," I stuck my tongue out at my brother.

"Bella! Your brother has a university degree. He wouldn't have got that if he was out drinking every night. I do wonder about you sometimes," Sue reprimanded.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. My step-mother had been blessed with two innocent and supremely polite children. She was oblivious to the ways of the real world. I was all too aware of them, although I had little to none active participation in it.

"So Seth, who do you think will win the FA cup this season?"

Naturally we resorted back to small talk. I tuned out and wondered how many new photos of Edward would be available by now.

"Bella, that Edward boy was in the magazine I bought today," I jerked back to reality the moment Sue mentioned his name.

"Cool. What did it say?" I was mastering staying casual in conversations such as these, although any mention of Edward was enough to send me into a temporary state of excitement.

"Something about him cheating on his girlfriend with one of co-stars. You can read it later if you like."

"What a load of rubbish. How do they get away with making up stuff like that?" I rolled my eyes as I swallowed my last mouthful of casserole and pushed my plate away.

"Bella, you don't actually know him. It might not be rubbish," Sue pointed out.

I bit back the reply that I more or less stalked the man on a daily basis, by this point I knew him pretty well.

Jake looked at me curiously and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged in reply, as if the matter was of no great significance.

I didn't answer Sue. You see, an unpleasant voice in my head sometimes told me that the Edward I saw in interviews was perhaps very different to his persona in real life. I didn't want to succumb to that voice but it was almost impossible to ignore. It was better to stay silent.

That was the day that I realized my family couldn't ever know how I felt about Edward.

I find it slightly ironic that it is the mature middle aged adults, as opposed to the immature and self absorbed teenagers, that have so much difficulty in accepting the unusual and abnormal. That is the reason why children keep so many secrets from their parents. For all their complaining about children being so secretive and closed off, deep down I believe that adults prefer to be left in the dark. It's easier to pretend that everybody's perfectly normal and just like them that way.

*****

**October 2008**

I scrolled down the web page aimlessly as I sipped my can of Dr -Pepper. It was my first month of sixth form and I was finding that I was relying on Edward to be my escape and keep me sane more than ever. My life was completely tipsy turvy, sometimes I felt as though I was living in Wonderland. The part of my life, the part of me, that probably defined me as insane was the very concept that was keeping me sane.

The world of AS-Level exams (I'd opted for Chemistry, English Literature, Psychology and Music), Wednesday morning assemblies and searching for a part time job to fund my years at University seemed to be dragging me down more and more lately. Daydreams were the only thing that got me through the mundane days. In my daydreams kissing Edward Cullen was a possibility rather than a fantasy. My daydreams were much more positive than reality.

I'd always both envied and pitied those with little imagination. Their world must be a bleak world indeed, without the option of escaping to a beach to kiss and caress the man of their dreams when the real world becomes a little bit too oppressive. Yet at the same time, they must be really strong people to be able to bear living in reality one hundred percent of the time.

Anyway I continued to scroll down the page and found nothing of interest to me until I neared the top of the page. The title of the article was 'Paparazzi video of Edward Cullen'. The summary of the video underneath said 'not a very nice video. It is recommended that you skip this one unless you have a strong stomach. Remember this is his job'.

I knew that in all likelihood I was not going to like this video. I clicked on it anyway, Edward was like a magnetic force for me.

The video began and I didn't even attempt to fight what was no doubt an undeniably goofy smile that overtook my face at the sight of him.

_**Edward was walking through a corridor with a burly bodyguard behind him. The sign behind him told me he was at Los Angeles Airport. He looked like every women's sexual fantasy come to life in a simple combination of black jeans, unlaced doctor martens, a dark blue t-shirt and an open zip up black hoodie. He had a bottle of Iron-Bru under one arm, a laptop case slung over his shoulder and a nettle green carry on in his right hand.**_

_**He spotted the paparazzi waiting for him, juggled all of his luggage as he retrieved a pair of sunglasses from his jean pocket and put them on before resuming walking.**_

_**"How's it going, Edward? Good to see you again, buddy," the pap had an incredibly nasally voice that grated on my nerves.**_

_**Edward gave no sign that he had heard the question except for the slight quickening of his pace.**_

_**"This is how it's gonna be, huh? It's not nice to ignore people, Edward," the pap increased his volume.**_

_**Edward continued to ignore him.**_

_**"Are you cheating on your pretty little girlfriend with Irina Colshaw? Are you getting a little extra, huh?" **_

_**This time Edward visibly clenched his fists.**_

_**"Which one's better in the sack, huh?"**_

_**Edward stopped in his tracks and ran his hand through his hair, knocking his sunglasses onto the ground into the process.**_

_**"Look here, I've had a long flight and I just want to get to my hotel. Please piss off," Edward's tone was audibly dangerous.**_

_**His eyes were now in full view of the camera. The beautiful green eyes that usually shone with amusement were cloudy with anger and frustration. **_

_**The video cut off.**_

I was shaking with anger. I shut my laptop off at the plug and buried by face in the duvet.

It struck me that in over eight months of following his videos and interviews, this was the first time I'd seen him angry. I guess that there is only so much one person can take before they snap. He had reached his breaking point. In that moment I would have traded my soul to give him a hug.

I shoved my headphones in my ears and switched on my i-pod full volume in order to block out the invading army of negative thoughts that were charging through my head. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't meant to get hurt, was my last thought as sleep overtook me.

_**I was ten years old all over again standing on my front door step watching my mother load her suitcases into the back of a white taxi. My father had barricaded himself in the living room, unable to face what was currently happening. Jake was at my side, glaring at my mother.**_

_**My mother signaled to the taxi driver that she'd be five minutes and came to a halt directly in front of Jake and I. **_

_**"You understand why I have to do this, right?" her voice was pleading.**_

_**I didn't understand and I wasn't in the mood for forgiveness so I said nothing.**_

_**"No, I don't actually," Jake's tone was acid.**_

_**"Don't be like that, sweetie. This is my last chance to be happy," tears shone in her eyes.**_

_**Jake turned his back on her and retreated into the safety of our house. My mother stepped forward with her arms open to embrace me. I stepped back and shook my head numbly. **_

_**"I love you both. Remember that," my last memory of her was her posture as she walked away. **_

_**It was the walk of someone of who has finally found freedom after a lifetime of imprisonment. I didn't shed a tear for my mother.**_

_**The scene changed and I was twelve years old in the middle of a fairly busy train station, beside the train that would take Jake away from me for four whole years at least. **_

_**My brother hugged me against him tightly, grabbed a hold of his suitcase and boarded the train. He turned back for a moment, waved and then he was gone. There was an undeniable lump in my throat but I still didn't shed a tear for my brother.**_

_**The scene switched again and I was 16 years old and watching the video that showed Edward being cruelly taunted by the paparazzi and finally snapping. His eyes were clouded and angry. A split second later the anger in his features evaporated and his eyes clouded once again. This time it was due to pain.**_

I woke up with tears streaming down my face. That night was the first time in all of my sixteen years that I had cried for somebody other than myself. On all of those occasions I had ever shed a tear, it had been because I was hurt or I was scared. The key word is I.

That night I cried for no other reason other than Edward was hurting. John Keats once said that you cannot have love without pain and that you need to embrace both. I embraced the pain as I sobbed into my pillow. I was hurting for Edward. In a way, it made me feel closer to him. In a way, it finally made me feel human.

*****

**February 2009**

"Copy down the date please," Mr Banner said over his shoulder.

I glanced at the white-board. It was the 14th February. I laughed to myself quietly.

"What's so funny," whispered Angela.

I shook my head in disbelief.

"I'll explain later," I replied.

Somehow the one year anniversary of the day I realized I loved Edward had snuck upon on me without me noticing.

A year seems like a long time in context but it seemed like just yesterday. Then again, I also couldn't really recall life before loving Edward.

Literally two weeks later everything changed.

* * *

**A/N - Three more chapters until they meet now, folks. **

**Read, favourite, review, do whatever you'd like :p.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - Thanks again to those people who are favouriting.**

**Disclaimer : 'Twilight' isn't mine. **

**Chapter six - Edward**

**February 2009**

_**I saw you wave goodbye please say it's not forever, Lola where did you go? I hope you're coming back cos I need you more than ever, Lola where did you go? Anytime at all you need me, all you gotta do is call me, I'll be there **_

_**- The Pigeon Detectives, Forever**_

I stumbled along my front path and managed to drag myself through the front door, limbs heavy and reactions delayed due to deep exhaustion.

The majority of people see acting as a farce, an easy way to make more money in a matter of weeks than manual workers will ever scrimp together in their entire lives. I cannot deny that acting pays extremely well (obviously a slight understatement) once you hit the 'big-time' but it is one of the most consuming professions out there.

Between acting jobs, you have the time to completely rejuvenate and the atmosphere is not unlike that of an idol vacation that, in my case at least, need never be terminated. There is no urgency, no desperate scramble to find a new job in order to pay the rent and the paparazzi tend to leave you to your own devices providing there are no infidelity or marriage rumors surrounding you.

The problem is that most actors usually find that the more acting jobs they do, the more acting seeps into their blood and becomes a part of them. No matter how long you had been looking forward to a vacation, in just weeks you discover that you desire a project to sink your teeth into. That is one of the reasons why actors with damaged reputations and high levels of unemployability always appear so desperate to scrounge a new acting job. Putting yourself into other peoples' shoes is surprisingly addictive.

Therefore, before too long in most cases it is unavoidable that you get back into the saddle. Then comes the filming of the movie that takes over your entire being for a while. You realize that your daily routine consists of staggering out of bed before the sun even rises, working a twelve hour day, forcing down some food and then collapsing into bed. Attempting to merge yourself into the character you are playing takes a lot out of you. It is virtually impossible to walk away from a character without leaving a little bit of your own soul behind and taking a part of the character you played with you. I guess it means that if you act in enough films you become unrecognizable to the people who knew you before you began acting.

When I entered the sitting room, simply craving a hot meal and a comfortable bed, Tanya was curled up on the sofa. Her eyes were streaked with mascara and her expression was a mixture of weariness and resignation.

Tired though I was, I was alert enough for her expression to chill me to the bone.

"What's wrong, Tan?" my words were contorted, a side affect of exhaustion.

She did not say a word, she simply held up a magazine that had been lying by her feet so I could see the front cover. A particularly horrific image of myself was spread across the page. The picture looked as though it had been taken mid-laugh, my clothing was rumpled and I was posing with a group of ecstatic looking fans who appeared to be in their twenties. The headline was 'Shock revelation: Edward Cullen's orgies with fans.'

I could not prevent the slight twitch of my lip at the sheer ridiculousness of the accusation. The whole idea would not have been anywhere near as amusing if my work schedule wasn't so hectic that I barely had time to eat let alone participate in any group sex scenarios. I rarely found enough time to have sex with my own girlfriend. My 'wild days' had well and truly been left by the wayside as soon as I became a recognizable public figure at just twenty years old. Even in those days when twenty four hour booze-a-thons had been a regular event orgies had still been a non-occurrence (for that I thank my luck stars. The fear of a sex video turning up on You-tube would haunt my everyday thoughts. My mother would eat me alive). In my opinion, there is such a thing as taking promiscuity too far. Plus to be honest, I had faced difficulties impressing one women enough to allow me to have sex with her, setting my sights on more than one would probably have been pushing my already precariously balanced luck too far.

"Come on, Tan, you can't actually believe that shit," I snickered, which in hindsight might not have been a particularly good move.

You see, I put my foot in my mouth on a frequent basis when I am fully functioning. If you add sleep deprivation to the mix you have an unavoidable recipe for disaster. I guess that is one of the reasons why I perform so badly on international press tours.

"Other people will believe it, Edward," the tone of her voice was decidedly bitter.

"Well I don't know about you, but personally I'd rather deal with this than another rumor that you are pregnant with my child. At least this doesn't involve you."

"How does this not involve me? I'll be the one who copes with the aftermath as usual. I won't be able to leave the house, without having cameras shoved in my face. I'm the one that the entire nation will pity because they think my boyfriend cheated on me with five women!"

I was able to count on one hand the number of times Tanya and I had rowed seriously during the entire course of our relationship. I was not at all prepared to deal with the angry and bitter reincarnation of my Tanya that was confronting me.

"Five? I think they may have over-estimated my stamina," I fell back on my old technique for diffusing awkward situations.

I knew as soon as the words left my mouth, like a word vomit, that humor was not appropriate in this scenario. I wondered if I could claw the idiotic sentence back into my brain before this situation spiraled completely out of control.

"I'm glad this is an amusing joke to you. Is that what I am to you, Edward? A great big joke?" tears were leaking from her eyes.

"No, of course not. That's not what.... I love you. You know that, right?" my speech was panicked and garbled.

"I guess, that I'm not sure if love is enough, at this point," she whispered.

"Of course it is! I need you, Tanya."

I did need Tanya. Before I met her, I was on the verge of losing control of myself. Panic attacks had been more or less inevitable before public appearances and leaving the house for non-work related activities had filled me with a sense of dread. Tanya had given me a reason to glue myself together. Unfortunately I sometimes felt as though that glue was taken from the child's section of Wal-mart. It wasn't strong enough to last if put under pressure. If she was to leave I feared that I would lose the fragile grip I had managed to gain on sanity.

"Edward, the problem is that I don't think I can cope any longer. I care about you a lot, but it's not good for me to have you rely on me so much. I can't help you any more, Edward. I need to help myself instead," her eyes were sad but her voice was final.

"No! We need to talk," I pleaded.

"Talk about what, Edward? Talk about how we barely ever see each other anymore, even though we live in the same house? Talk about how you never stop to think about how much stories in magazines and newspapers and the constant paparazzi harassment affects me? I have just as much right to hate it as you do. I'm sorry, Edward, but I just can't do this anymore," she was on her feet by this point.

"We can do this if we try, please."

"Edward, I don't think I _want _to try anymore," she looked straight into my eyes as she empathized the last part.

I ran my fingers through my tangled hair and stared at the ground.

"I'll go and pack my stuff," she said quietly.

Once she left the room I sat on the couch, elbows on knees and face in hands.

She was leaving me.

Tanya was leaving me.

Most importantly of all, Tanya was right.

I did love her but I thought of her in terms of how much I needed her rather than what she needed. I was incapable of giving her anything that she needed, I was a total and utter wreck. I could take but I could not reciprocate. She deserved better than me. I wanted her to have better than me.

That didn't negate the fact that I needed her, loved her.

I took deep breaths to calm myself as I tugged at the ends of my hair with more force.

I could live without her.

I could live without her but I would deteriorate into insanity.

How did we get to this point? How did I fail to see the signs that she was unhappy and frustrated? Was I really that self-focused? Was tiredness induced obliviousness any excuse? Did any of it really matter?

Perhaps minutes, seconds or hours later she opened the front door, her tan colored suitcase by her side. I purchased that suitcase as a present for her when she took a vacation with her girlfriends a few months ago. Was she unhappy at that point? Did she contemplate our future as she sipped Pina Coladas by the poolside? Again, did any of it really matter?

"I'm sorry, Edward. I hope you can bring yourself to understand. Take care of yourself," she kissed me on the cheek one last time.

"Bye, Tanya. I love you," I whispered.

"Me too," she brushed a stray tear away and then she was gone, expensive suitcase and all.

She left me to fester in my confused web of thoughts. I didn't want to think, I didn't want to go around in a never-ending circle of contradicting thoughts that took place in my own head. I didn't want to feel anymore.

So I did what every heartbroken man does in his moment of need. I took a bottle of whiskey out of the fridge and drunk until my thoughts were tangled and I could feel no more.

****

The next morning brought alongside it the mother of all hangovers and the first sick day I'd ever taken in the history of my acting career. I guess that fact is proof that women alone have the power to break you.

I sat cross legged on the floor, still in last night's clothing, and methodically worked through the photo album that contained all of Tanya and I's joint pictures. Each memory cut into me like a shard of glass, leaving a permanent scar deep down where nobody could see.

Tanya and I at her mother's house at Christmas, pink paper hats out of recently pulled crackers falling over our eyes, our glasses of champagne raised in celebration.

I dug my nails into my palm.

Tanya on our first and only vacation last October, sprawled out on the sand in a black beaded bikini, smiling at me as I snapped the photo.

I bit my lip so hard that it drew blood.

Tanya and I at a cocktail party on New Years Eve, our heads close and our faces flushed due to alcohol and merriment.

I felt a wave of nausea hit me.

Still I continued through the photographs. It resembled a twisted version of self harm. Each photo would cause my stomach to contract painfully. I deserved the pain. I caused it all. I let her go.

The abrupt ringing of the land-line echoed through my head painfully. I winced, cursed whoever was on the other end, then answered.

"Edward?"

Of course, it was my mother. Mothers seem to have an uncanny intuition that senses when their sons' lives are crashing down around them.

"Mom, now isn't really a good time," my voice was hoarse and crackly.

"Edward honey, you need to get over here now. There's something you need to see," she sounded edgy.

"Not today, mom," I sighed.

My father was killed in a car accident when my mother was pregnant with me and Emmett was three years old. As a result of this my mother, Emmett and I were close while we were growing up. I loved my mother but I didn't want to be forced to tell her about Tanya's departure today. I couldn't stomach the sympathy. Sympathy always hurts when you are all too aware that the entire scenario was entirely your fault.

"Edward, this is important. If it's better for you, Emmett and I will come to see you. We'll be there in half an hour."

She hung up on me.

I leant back on the sofa and sighed.

****

Surprisingly Emmett did not burst into my house in his usual rambunctious manner but instead walked behind my mother, in a rather subdued style. Naturally this aroused my suspicions. Naturally in my current state I could not find the energy to follow up my suspicions.

"Oh goodness, Edward, you look terrible. Are you okay?" my mother had obviously taken in the empty bottles of alcohol littered around the couch.

I simply shrugged.

"Well I think it's rather obvious that something is wrong with you. I'll worry even more, if you don't tell me. Did something happen at work?"

Sometimes I felt as though my soft core rebellious school years (occasionally bunking off, smoking behind the bike sheds and a constant refusal to hand in homework) coupled with the early years of unemployment and drinking had led my mother to believe that it was only a matter of time before I single handedly sabotaged my relatively newfound career.

"No... it's Tanya," I accepted defeat.

"Where is Tanya?" Emmett had been unusually quiet up until this point.

"She stayed out last night."

"When is she coming back?" there was an uncharacteristic urgency to his tone.

"She's not."

"What do you mean, honey?" my mother picked up on my desolate words.

"She left me, mum. It was my fault though. She left me."

I was thankful when neither Emmett nor my mother asked me to elaborate.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry," mom gathered me into a tight hug after a moment of silence.

"Mom, we need to tell him now. Before he finds out himself," Emmett said quietly.

"Find out what?" I pulled away from mom.

A feeling of deja vu hit me as Emmett pulled a magazine out of his coat pocket and tossed it in my direction. I caught it and scanned the headline.

Much like the magazine that had ripped apart my world the previous evening it was a cheap tabloid magazine. As always, my face was center-fold. This time the headline read 'Edward Cullen's sister-in-law speaks out'.

I snarled.

I flipped open the magazine and found the interview. I glanced at the phrases that were in bold.

'Edward is very much in love with Tanya. I wouldn't be surprised if he marries her.'

'At home he is treated like a typical youngest child. He's teased but he's very much loved.'

'Edward's a flirt. Sometimes on nights out he'll say something and I'll be like "gosh, is Edward Cullen flirting with me?".'

I threw the magazine onto the floor as if it were contagious.

"What the fuck is this?" I seethed.

"Edward.....," my mother began.

"She didn't mean for it to end up in a magazine, Edward. A reporter started asking questions and she didn't realize what would happen. She's upset about it," Emmett cut her off.

"She sold me out! Your air-head girlfriend sold me out," I was teetering on the edge of control.

"Edward, you're not listening!" Emmett snapped.

"No, you're not listening. If she comes anywhere near me again, I swear to God Emmett, I will not be responsible for my actions!"

"Edward, you are not going to fucking talk about her like that. She didn't know what she was doing."

I remembered being thankful for Emmett's unwaveringly loyal nature as a child. I always knew that my older brother would be there for me, no matter what the circumstances. Now it appeared as though his loyalty lay with his girlfriend.

A part of me knew that I was acting irrationally.

The more dominant part of me was bubbling with rage. Nowadays I was so paranoid to such an extent that I granted my trust to a very select few people. The fact that my brother's girlfriend, who I had met on a number of occasions and thought she was perfectly suited to Emmett, was discussing me with journalists shattered my remaining faith in humanity.

"Get the hell out of my house, Emmett. Fuck off back to your traitor girlfriend," I hissed through my teeth.

"Fine. Call me, when you want to start talking sense," Emmett slammed the door.

Mom looked at me, pity evident in every pore of her face.

I had been on the receiving end of that expression so many times as a child. She'd given me that look when I had came home at six years old and asked why I didn't have a father like the other children at school. I'd received that look the day Billy Jones had broken my nose simply because I completely dominated him in a spelling test when I was ten. I'd gotten that expression the day I'd walked in on my first real crush giving my best friend his first blow job when I was fourteen.

On every single one of those occasions, my mother's pity had somehow acted as a security blanket that drove the demons away at least temporarily. Sometimes though, pity isn't enough to pull someone out of the hole they are sinking into. Sometimes they've already lost their footing and no screams for help can save them.

"Edward honey, your brother....."

"If you are going to defend him, then you can go to."

"Edward, don't be ridiculous. He's your brother."

"I'm serious, mom. It's him or me."

"You're both my sons, Edward."

"Just go."

For the second time in twenty four hours I watched a person I loved walk out of my front door. I'd driven both of them away. I may have broke Tanya unintentionally but it had been entirely my fault nonetheless.

I continued where I left off last night regarding the bottle of whiskey.

This time the numbness didn't fade. This time was numbness for there to stay.

That was the day that Edward Cullen lost himself.

* * *

**Durn.....Durn......Durn**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N : Thank-you to all those who favourited. I guess no-one wants to be my friend and review, though *sulks*. I guess I am kind of scary.....**

**Disclaimer : 'Twilight' does not belong to me.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven - Bella**

**February 2009**

_**Thought I saw a man brought to life, he was warm, he came around like he was dignified, he showed me what it was to cry. You couldn't be that man that I adored, you don't seem to know, don't seem to care what your heart is for. I don't know him anymore. There's nothing where he used to lie, the conversation has run dry, that's what's going on, nothing's fine, I'm torn.**_

_**- Natalie Imbruglia, Torn**_

Edward Cullen massacred a small piece of my heart the day after the scandalous piece of shit masquerading under the name of journalism was unleashed upon the world.

The morning was hideous from the very beginning. My lip was cracked and caked with stale blood (my lip took the brunt of my vented frustration the prior evening), my knuckle was bruised and tender (the bedroom wall was a replacement for Edward's sister-in-law's nose which was unfortunately unattainable at the time) and I was an emotional train-wreck.

The moment I had seen the interview with Edward's sister-in-law (on the internet naturally), and the accompanying paparazzi photographs of an extremely emotionless Edward leaving his house, I had literally lost my head. My instant reaction was to spring off my desk chair and head towards the door. In that moment I could feel nothing but an almost overpowering need to comfort Edward. The need was so intense that it momentarily overtook the reality of the situation.

For ten entire seconds, the countless boundaries that separated him from me were irrelevant and inadequate. The fact that he was blissfully (or perhaps not so blissfully at this point) unaware of my existence, so far out of my league that he was practically in a different galaxy and was a mature grown up in comparison to my meager sixteen years on Earth did not matter to me. I simply needed to enfold him in my arms and provide him with whatever comfort he could take from me. I needed to make it better for my baby.

Then, as it has a tendency to, reality set in. I could not save him. Love doesn't conquer all barriers, not really. I was part of the problem whether I liked it or not. I was one of the thousands of people who looked at paparazzi photos of him, I was contributing towards his fame and riches. Everybody knows that the more famous you become, the more determined the rabid dogs become to tear you down.

I transferred all my love, hatred, pure rage and distress into my fist as it collided with the wall. I did not even register the pain and instead paced around my bedroom, snarling like a caged tiger.

It was the beginning of the end.

Now, twelve hours later I was finally beginning to calm down. However I could still feel a tidal wave of emotion simmering beneath the surface of my skin, just waiting for the eruption that would free them. I was far too drained to cope with any additional emotional breakdown. I wanted normality, my normality at least.

I switched on my laptop and as soon as it booted up I checked for 'Edward' updates. There was a new video, enticing me, teasing me. Of course I clicked on it, resistance was futile.

**The video was taken from some distance away. Edward was on the film set of his latest movie, apparently between takes. His appearance betrayed no signs of the toll of the last few days. He was still as beautiful as the day I first lay my eyes upon him, his jaw peppered with stubble and clothing rumpled. He was my hobo. My relief was palpable.**

**Two teenage fans approached him, eyes wide and cameras in hand. They asked for a photo, their exhilaration making their words high pitched and stumbling. He just stared blankly, shook his head, apologized and walked away from them.**

**His posture was rigid, his eyes were lifeless and his expression was blank. Not once during that twenty minute video did my favorite beautiful smile grace his face. **

I crumbled into a million tiny fragments at that moment. White hot anger battled for dominance with unveiled distress, leaving me an empty shell, my breath rasping and my body shaking.

Fame was destroying him.

I was going to lose him, lose what I had never even had within my grasp in the first place. Dreams, hope and miracles were being clawed from within me, disappearing into the air.

I snarled. Tears leaked from my weary eyelids. I cursed. I struggled to breath, gasping in lungfuls of air. I tugged at my hair, unconsciously mimicking one of his most frequently occurring gestures.

I wondered why nobody could hear my heart breaking.

I'd always believed that Edward and I were kindred spirits. Now, I guessed that it was about to be proven. He was losing himself and in turn I was being sucked into a black hole of anger and bitterly aching pain.

****

**March 2009**

The canteen was packed to the seams as was custom the day before Easter break. Spirits were high as were volumes and pitches and voices. Jess, Lauren, Angela and I huddled around a circular table in the corner of the room praying for warmth and Paracetamols.

"What was the last film you cried at?" Angela took her turn.

"The Notebook."

"Black Beauty."

"The Kite Runner."

"What about you?" Lauren asked Angela.

"Of Mice And Men."

I nodded approvingly.

"The guy you lost your virginity to?"

I rolled my eyes and snickered under my breath. The question was so typical of Lauren.

"Still intact," I said.

"Ben, of course," Ange smiled referring to her boyfriend of ten months who attended the Catholic School across the city.

"I'm still waiting for Eric to realize that I am perfect for him," Jess giggled.

"Well my first was Tyler. Ew, he totally sucked at it," Lauren tossed her hair to the side.

"How can you suck at sex?" Jess laughed.

"Well for his start his penis was practically the size of a thumbnail."

"You're bull-shitting?" Angela giggled.

"Nope. Let's just say I think puberty is coming extremely late for Tyler."

"Nice," I commented dryly.

"What is your biggest regret in life?" Jess asked the next question.

"Fucking Tyler," Lauren piped up.

Laughter echoed around the table.

"Failing Chemistry," Angela winced at the memory.

I knew that my biggest regret in life _should _have been falling in love with Edward Cullen. Each new lifeless and expressionless photograph of him pierced my heart and was guaranteed to result in tears or bottled up anger. The joy that had overtaken me at the mere sight of him in the 'old days' was nothing but a bitter memory as far as I was concerned.

Then again, how can you regret love? People aspire to love unsparingly their entire lives and I'd found that at fifteen years of age. I regretted almost ninety percent of my life, from the bitterness I harbored towards my mother to the distinct lack of effort I put into my art coursework, but loving Edward Cullen was one of the few things that I would never regret.

"Not making enough effort with my dad when I was younger," I sighed.

The game continued but the resulting train of thought haunted me for the rest of the day. Later that evening I did something that was a rarity for me: I made a list (lists are not frequent occurrences for the distinctly unorganized).

**The positive aspects of my current predicament (loving Edward)**

**1)The good times. All those smiles and laughter that he granted me. The summer of Edward. Those memories that I would forever treasure.**

**2)The thawing of my icicle heart. He taught me the art of loving selflessly and crying for the pain of others. Before him I feared that I was abnormal in the ways of human emotion. Nothing or nobody ever seemed to connect with me in the manner that I needed it to.**

**3)Edward was my rainbow. He was the symbol that hope lingered on the horizon. He was the proof that you can find your desired destination in life without having any prior idea of the directions or indeed even the description of the destination. Edward Cullen was a miracle in more way than one.**

The list gave me a small sense of peace. All those negative factors that came alongside loving Edward, for now at least, were severely outweighed by the benefits. At the end of the day hope, love and laughter are the emotions in life that matter. Pain is simply an inevitable side affect of those things in life that actually matter.

***

**Mid-March 2009**

**Edward was dressed in his usual uniform of scruffy jeans, Doctor Martens and white t-shirt. His previous customary lopsided smiles and infectious laughs, however, were noticeably absent. His expression was strangely serious and his posture was stiff. The black circles beneath his eyes were extremely prominent.**

**Interviewer: Tell the viewers a little bit about the character of Thomas.**

**Edward: Thomas is a very happy go lucky character at the beginning. I suppose you could say that he is a little bit naive, he never seems to realize when other people are taking advantage of his good nature. At the end of the film he sort of realizes that the world is not this wonderful and optimistic place that he envisioned before. He becomes a lot more cynical and cautious.**

**Interviewer: So is that the main plot of the story? Thomas' journey from naivety to cynicism?**

**Edward: In a way I guess it is. It's also about how the world drags the innocent down. It's a very cynical film with a lot of black humor.**

**Interviewer: You're a fan of black humor then?**

**Edward: Yes, very much so.**

**Interviewer: How has your life changed in the last two years?  
**

**Edward: Well, I certainly can't go out to the places I used to. It's changed a lot, I guess.**

**Interviewer: Do you ever get fed up of all the attention? **

**Edward: Sometimes. I'm pretty sure that everybody has regrets about one thing or another.**

**Interviewer: One last question for now. You are back on the single market after your split from Tanya Denali, is that correct?**

**Edward: You are correct.**

**Interviewer: Okay, thank-you for chatting with me today.**

**Edward: My pleasure.**

It was the weird, endearing jokes that I missed most of all. It was as though the Edward that giggled and charmed his way through lame interviews with repetitive questions, had been abducted by aliens and replaced with a lifeless and business-like replica of the man I loved.

The Edward who had once been endearingly genuine and an apparent open book, had vanished without a trace. The question about his ex-girlfriend did not even appear to trigger any emotion. He was blank, he wasn't my Edward.

Edward Cullen was ripping my heart and soul out of my chest and inadvertently crushing them into the dirt with the heel of his Doctor Martens. I once read that you can measure the depth of love you possess for someone by the amount of pain they are able to cause you. Never before, had any saying been so true.

I would have willingly gave my own life for Edward Cullen. I would have taken a bullet for him. I would have even lived a lived a life of loneliness and longing and coped with it as long as he was happy. I guess that just wouldn't have caused the same amount of pain and helplessness. There is no atonement quite like watching the love of your young life lose the very essence of them-self while you watch on helpless and screaming internally.

***

Later that evening I lay underneath my duvet, staring at the painted yellow stars on my ceiling (there was something extremely therapeutic about having symbols of hope and wishing in your own room, it feels as though your dreams and not so far out of reach after all). I was caught in a web of indecision, at a standstill, but all too aware that I couldn't stay stationary forever.

I was all too painfully aware that I could not save Edward. However there was still time to for me to scramble out of the steeply inclined pit I had fallen into. If I could have resurrected 'my Edward' simply by sacrificing myself I would have done so without a second thought. The issue was that, in this case, sacrificing myself would not save Edward. I would be condemning myself to purgatory alongside him rather than instead of him.

There was no doubt in my mind that continuing watching Edward's fall from grace would eventually kill me, internally at the very least. Part of me, was insisting that I was partly to blame for the entire fiasco and therefore I owed it to him to suffer along with him. Despite this, I knew deep down that martyrdom was not an attractive path to start down.

Cutting Edward out of my life would resemble taking scissors to myself and slicing my heart into jagged ribbons. However, someday it was possible that I would be able to salvage something out of my life even if I was scarred permanently from the mere presence of Edward.

Edward had chosen his path, it was time for me to select my chosen direction.

***

I sat amid every single possession that was connected to Edward in any way at all. Posters, calendars, magazines and dvds were scattered across the carpet.

I placed each relic in a shoe-box one at a time. Each possession carried its own memory, a reminder of a time when loving Edward had few repercussions. It was like saying goodbye to old friends.

When everything was packed away I picked up a notebook and a pen. It wasn't enough to pack all reminders away in storage, I needed closure, as much as I could scrape up at any rate.

First of all I wrote yet another list.

_**Edward,**_

_**Thank-you for the happiest days of my entire life. You made me laugh, you made me smile and you alone had the power to make me cry. **_

_**I will be eternally sorry that circumstance changed you. You should have always remained the man you were before, because to be honest that man was pretty fucking amazing. You were the best person I'd ever known (a loose term here). I only wish I'd treasured those months more at the time because I'll never get them back now.**_

_**I loved you more than life itself. I would have done anything for you. I know that it was absurd and the daydreams of a silly little girl but deep down a part of me always clung to a fraying piece of hope that one day we'd end up together. Deep down I always believed that you were meant for me. I guess that I was wrong all along.**_

_**I hope that you understand why I have to do this. I have to salvage what I can of my life. I still love you, I don't think I'll ever stop loving you, but I am clinging to a shadow of the man I used to adore.**_

_**I'm sorry. I love you.**_

_**Bella.**_

Tears dripped onto the paper as I signed my name. It was unbelievably ironic that I rarely shed a tear before the whirlwind, otherwise known as Edward, tore through my life. Nowadays, it seemed as though all I ever did was cry over a shadow.

I placed the letter amid the contents of the box. As ridiculous as it sounds, in a way it felt like the words were reaching Edward. It was an absurd ending to a perfectly absurd and depressingly one-sided, but nevertheless beautiful, love affair.

I knew that I would never summon up the strength to discard the box with the rubbish in the dustbin. That would feel as though I was labelling my love for Edward, and Edward himself, as unwanted and unneeded. Never in my life had I wanted or needed anything as much as Edward Cullen.

Instead, I ventured up into the attic, clutching the box to my chest, as though I was a toddler and it was my favorite security blanket that I was unwilling to part from. I guess that in this case it was I who was abandoning the box in a dark and shadow infested location as opposed to the other way around.

I placed it in the furthest corner from the hatch entrance, buried it beneath a pile of old linen sets and retreated down the step ladder before I had the opportunity to change my mind.

"Goodbye, Edward," I whispered.

Turning my back on my love for Edward Cullen was the most tasking thing I had ever done. For one moment I felt closer to my mother than I had in six years. I guess that we were both good at walking away.

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**A/N - So.......... Edward will finally meet Bella next chapter. Great timing, huh? Anyway I know that next chapter would normally be from Edward's POV but next time it will be Bella's again. Edward is otherwise engaged with his bottle of whiskey I'm afraid....**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N - Thanks to those who found the time to review and favourite. Just one review can make my shitty day a little bit better. Sorry for the slight delay in updating, I intended to update last night but I was a little bit distracted by the new Rob photoshoots. **

**Disclaimer - I do not own Twilight.**

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**Chapter Eight - Bella**

_**How long have I been in this storm? So overwhelmed by the ocean's shameless pull. Water's getting harder to tread, with these waves crashing over my head. If I could just see you, everything would be alright, if I could see you, this darkness would turn to light. I know you didn't bring me out here to drowned, so why am I ten feet under and upside down? Barely surviving has become my purpose, cos I'm so used to living underneath the surface. If I could just see you, everything would be alright, If I could see you, this darkness would turn to light.**_

_**- Storm, Lifehouse.**_

When I cut Edward out of my life, I permanently damaged a sizable chunk of own being. The young and slightly naive girl, who'd whole-heartedly believed 'The Beatles' when they reassured her that 'all you need is love' and saw the world through 'Disney' tinted goggles, was marred by battle scars. I'd forced myself into the rather frightening land of adulthood more or less overnight, after I attempted to severe the emotional ties that binded me to Edward Cullen. The last scraps of my innocence were vanquished to the furthest corners of my mind alongside any thoughts of the man I loved.

It's safe to say that I resented my new-found maturity. Adulthood is defined by no longer believing in ideas and concepts that you had faith in as a child. Children are blissfully ignorant of the hardships of real life and dwell in the land of Never-land, Peter Pan and endless yards of imagination and faith. Adults are the corrupt ones, the people who have seen that belief and faith can only carry you so far.

I missed the belief that my life had endless possibilities. I missed days of getting lost inside my own head. Most of all, I missed my Edward.

At first it was virtually impossible to free my brain of all concepts related to Edward. He'd been an extremely significant part of my life for so long (at least in regards to the average duration of a teenage relationship) that I could not prevent the random thoughts of him that would echo through my head. As soon as I would think of Edward, my mantra automatically became 'He's not your Edward anymore' and I would force myself to conjure up the image of Edward as I'd last seen him: Lost, hopeless and noticeably bitter.

Daydreaming became far too risky, losing myself in subconsciousness was certain to culminate in thoughts of my lost love. Instead, for the first time since I'd hit puberty, I threw myself into school work, determined at least to be mildly successful in at least one area of my life. For the duration of my first year in Sixth Form, I took on extra college courses on an evening, questionably becoming obsessed with allowing myself the best chance of being accepted into a decent University as I possibly could. I longed to follow in Jake's footsteps, to snatch a perpetual 'get out of jail free card', an escape to somewhere far away. Hopefully, to a place where the phantom that lingered just out of my thought processes was unable to follow.

For the first four months after I went cold turkey, I was a numb shell of a person that could only focus on schoolwork, nothing else could penetrate through the layers of depression and grief that enclosed me. Human contact was limited throughout that time period. Tiring of attempting to reconnect with me, my friends left me to wallow in my self-created purgatory.

By the point in which I was ready to rejoin the human race, things around me had altered significantly. At school, our traditional four person circle of friends, had been broken when Alice joined our social group. We were now, apparently a five-some. To tell you the truth, Alice intimidated me more than I'm willing to admit, with her endless reserves of chatter and hyperactivity. I tried my upmost to avoid her as much as possible. My shattered self had already taken as much change as it was capable of dealing with, any added burdens would doubtlessly send me on the path to self destruction.

Despite this, however, by the time I had reached the eight month mark of life without Edward, I had recovered as much as I'd ever had any right to expect to. Like most things, blocking out Edward became easier with time.

Throughout my 'recovery period', as I took to referring to it as in later days, there were only two real points at which my carefully constructed kingdom of mental blockage nearly unraveled.

****

**June 2009 - Bella is seventeen**

_**Edward was standing directly in front of me, his expression impossible to read. I pushed myself up onto my feet, brushed stray blades of grass off my skirt and looked directly at him.**_

_**"Why are you here, Edward?" I ask, my voice shaking.**_

_**"I'm here, because it's all your fault," the calm in his voice is icy, cutting.**_

_**"It's not my fault, Edward. Please don't say that," I whisper, hurt.**_

_**I cannot prevent myself from walking forward and reaching for his hand. I am unable to bear Edward looking so devoid of life. He snatches his hand away before I can make contact with it. Now, there's unmistakable glimpses of anger in his eyes, swimming beneath the calm.**_

_**"Edward," I whimper, helplessly.**_

_**"Did you ever love me, Bella?" his voice is transfixing, yet dangerous.**_

_**"Of course I did. I loved you so much," my voice breaks on the last syllables.**_

_**"Then how could you give up on me?" **_

_**Tears fill my eyes at this point. His anger is an unmistakable mask for his hurt. I hurt Edward Cullen, more than I ever thought was possible.**_

_**"Loving you wasn't making you any happier," I say quietly, desperately, needing him to understand.**_

_**"All I ever needed was one person to believe in me, Bella."  
**_

_**He turns his back and walks away, his stride purposeful, seemingly unable to bear another moment in my presence. It hurts, but not as much as his cutting words.**_

_**He turns one last time.**_

_**"This time, I get to walk away from you."**_

I crashed back to consciousness, eyes wide, my cheeks damp with tears. I whimpered and sobbed, like a wounded animal. Then before I registered what was happening, I vomited all over my duvet, noisily and painfully.

When the torrent of pain and shock finally wears off, I chastise myself, all too aware that I needed to be more prepared for this day. It was always going to be hard. Edward Cullen's birthday brought far too many unpleasant thoughts to the surface.

****

**July 2009**

Jess, Lauren, Angela, Alice and I are seated on the stone wall, beside the school gates. It was mid-summer and the heat is welcomed by all around. It was one of those days where school children simply cannot muster up the energy to do any sort of productive work, as long as the sun tempts them with its glorious rays.

I was in a state of transition by this time, beginning to interact with my friends on a normal level again, but still liable to slip back into numbness and isolation at the smallest mishap. By this point, I was weary of being so abnormal, so dysfunctional, I just longed to be average, as opposed to a freak.

"Are you coming shopping this weekend, Bella? Alice found this fantastic retro shop last week. You'd love it," Angela smiled at me.

"You should definitely come, Bella! You need to see the shoes they sell, they are absolutely glorious," Alice chirped, speaking far faster than any human should be able to.

"Maybe," I am unwilling to commit to any definite arrangements.

"Hey, Bella, lover boy is in this magazine," Jess waved her copy of Ok!Magazine less than an inch away from my face.

"Edward Cullen sacks his long-term manager after he recommends a stint in rehab: His spiral out of control."

The front cover automatically fueled me with anger. Then, I began to shake. The sun's rays suddenly did not seem to be reaching me, I felt cold.

"Haha, told you he was a loser, Bells," Lauren snickered.

"I need to use the bathroom," I managed to stammer, before I practically ran in the direction of the school building.

This time, at least, I did not succumb to the tears burning behind my eye-lids. Instead, I spent the rest of my dinner hour, in the bathroom, attempting to stop the air from leaving my lungs in huge spurts. I wondered if my gasps for air, were made necessary with the intention of letting me know that, despite evidence to the contrary, I was still actually alive.

****

**January 2010**

After the near breakdown at school incident, I seemed to work my way slowly back to normality. I would never be whole again, I would always love Edward even if I could no longer allow myself to acknowledge that fact, but I could continue to battle my way through life.

Then one day, my entire recovery fell apart around me, like a set of crumbling tower blocks.

It had been easier than you'd probably think, avoiding anything to do with Edward. After all, while I was cocooned in my bubble of Edwardness, I had failed to realize that outside there were actually people who were unaware of the very existence of Edward Cullen. Obviously though, there were specific locations where it was necessary to avoid at all costs. The magazine aisle in Tesco became my own personal plague, that I could not allow myself more than 10 meters in sight of, no matter how strange I must have appeared to be, to those who shopped alongside me. I knew that the slightest piece of information in regards to Edward had the potential to bring me to my knees, and a very public meltdown was not in my list of priorities.

However, one evening in January, my father entered my bedroom with a slice of news that would shock me to the core.

"Blimey Bells, what a day I've had. The entire city has gone barmy," he chuckled, rubbing his knuckles over his eyes.

"What do you mean?" I asked in confusion.

"People all over town are running to the movie set, by the cathedral, I've never seen anything like it."

"What movie set, dad?"

"Don't you ever watch the news, Bells? They are shooting a new film at the cathedral."

"You already said that part. Loads of films are shot up there. That doesn't explain why people are running to the set."

"Sue, said that they all want to see the actor in the film."

"Which actor is it, then?"

"That's the funny thing actually. It's that guy you used to have all those posters of. Edward Cullen, was it?"

I winced. I'd always known that there was a small possibility that one day Edward would film somewhere in my region. Obviously, when I'd loved Edward openly, I'd prayed for some sort out of worldly force to send him in my direction.

It was now official, something in the universe was doubtlessly plotting against me and my very precariously balanced sanity.

****

**12 hours later**

As I weaved in and out of the horrific crowds of people, I wondered why I'd ever thought it was a good idea to face the Saturday morning crowds at the Metro Centre shopping mall. Now I was actually in the midst of the gangs of eager bargain hunters, my earlier nagging urge to hunt down a new outfit for tonight (bowling and a restaurant with Jess, Angela and Alice) suddenly diminished.

If I'm being totally honest, the shock of having the man I was trying so hard to avoid in my home-town had created stacks of pent-up anxious energy that was driving me borderline insane. In the end, I decided that prowling around my bedroom like an insane zoo creature was absurd when I could be doing something a bit more productive.

Eventually, I battled my way through New Look and managed to snatch a quirky tartan skirt that flared out as it progressed towards my knees, off the sale rail right from under the nose of a particularly enthusiastic shopper. After picking out some black and blue stripy over-the-knee socks to wear with the skirt I paid for my purchases and started to make my way back in the direction of the multi-storey parking lot.

I was incredibly proud that I'd managed to pick up relatively cheap clothing items, as I had an unfortunate tendency to get carried away while shopping and spending more than I could afford. At the moment, every spare penny I scrimped together was put into my University fund, which was supposed to fund three years of student living. My part-time job as a waitress in a cafe, which I'd given up less than a month ago in order to concentrate on my studies for the last six month stretch of sixth-form, had contributed to this fund but it was still going to be a tight stretch.

I smiled at the thought of leaving Durham Johnson High School behind me, and not a moment too soon, as I strode past the entrance the children's wear section of Debenhams department store. I came to an abrupt halt as hysterical screaming echoed through the large store. I looked around, slightly panicked, as I contemplated what the emergency could be. I envisioned a psycophathic gunman shooting down everything in his line of sight. Surely though, that would warrant the sounds of gunshots? Then again, as the screaming was now reaching fever pitch, it was a distinct possibility that the hysteria could block out the sound of shooting.

I was debating whether sprinting the last fifty meters to the car park would be considered cowardly, just as an extremely harassed looking person came into my line of sight. It was the Doctor Martens that caught my attention first, as I was deliberately avoiding eye contact in preparation for the unlikely event that this man was my imaginary insane sniper.

Black, scuffed Doctor Martens.

I immediately glanced up: Shock, horror and a terrifying urge to vomit battled for dominance inside of me. This could not be happening, surely not.

I found myself looking up into frantic jade green eyes.

"Shit," I groaned.

My own personal demon and angel, Edward.

He stopped less than a meter away from me, his eyes darting around, no doubt looking for the nearest escape route. The screamers were not yet in my line of vision, apparently they were so busy shrieking that they forgot to run.

He was not supposed to be here. What would have been some kind of wet dream for me a little over a year ago was now more of a nightmare.

Could I watch him be ambushed by a bunch of squealing imbeciles?

In the end it was his hand tugging at his gloriously messy hair that made the split-second decision for me. My Edward, was still in there somewhere.

I leant forward and grabbed his hand, ignoring his slight flinch.

"Move, now," I growled, a tad more irritated the situation probably called for, angry that I was forced to break my own personal vow.

He looked at me in bewilderment, I tugged again.

"Look, do you want to be turned into tween fodder? Come on, I am not going to rip you apart. I. Am. Not. Screaming," my patience was thin.

He finally moved. And, that is how I ended up sprinting through Debenhams with Edward Cullen.

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**A/N - So what do you think?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N - Thanks to everyone who is reading and putting this story on alert. I appreciate it :).**

**Disclaimer : I don't own 'Twilight'.**

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**Chapter Nine - Edward**

**January 2010**

_**Everything is open, nothing is set in stone, rivers turn to ocean, oceans tied you home, home is where the heart is, but your heart had to roam, drifting over ridges, never to return, watching bridges burn. You're driftwood floating up the wall, breaking into pieces. Just drifthood, hollow and of no use, waterfalls will grind you and find you. **_

_**- Travis, Driftwood**_

"Look, do you want to be turned into tween fodder? Come on, I am not going to rip you apart. I. Am. Not. Screaming," the girl in-front of me practically snarled.

I had not the slightest idea whether the fact that the over-excited squeals of the approaching tween mob seemed to getting progressively closer, was purely a result of my over-reactive imagination. To tell the truth, I was not at all keen to stick around and find out.

Therefore, I allowed the bewilderingly angry girl to tug me around the corner, breaking into a run to match her pace. For all I knew, she could have been the President of my fan club, intent on shoving me into the boot of her vehicle in order to make me her sex slave. It was a distinct possibility that she was a desperate and unhinged criminal, hell-bent on holding me ransom so she could club together enough money to flee the country. Or, she could just have been a normal girl reacting to an extremely surreal situation.

I had no idea of knowing which of the above options was the truth and I had no way of finding out. However, as she said, she was not screaming and that made all the difference. Ridiculous though it sounds, being a victim of unplanned crime would be relatively peaceful compared to becoming a play-toy for the screaming masses.

The only thing I was aware of was my own uneven gasps of breath and the pounding of my feet upon the hard and shiny flooring as I allowed myself to be led away from the pandemonium. It must only have been two minutes later when the girl came to a stop in a multi-storey car-park, opposite an elevator. She released my hand, and only then did I ponder that she had provided me with the first bit of human contact that had taken place outside of a movie set in months.

I leaned against the elevator for support, finally allowing the abrupt shock and anxiety, that the situation had arisen within me, erupt to surface.

Over the past year, I had made it my intention to stay away from crowds and fan-girls, and people in general really. I'd become isolated, a loner, only leaving my house for filming and absolutely essential errands. My mother and I were on tentative ground and my brother and I hadn't spoken in over a year. Trust was something elusive for me nowadays, something that was just a memory and no longer within the realms of possibility. It was a lonely existence without a doubt, but the safest one.

My lame attempt at rebellion today had obviously been ill thought out and incredibly stupid. I had simply wanted to strike out against my manager and every other person who had advised me whole-heartedly not to leave my hotel without security. It had been a last ditch attempt to regain some control over my life. Now it had been proven that my life was out of my own hands. Then again, if I'm being totally honest, that fact was proven an awfully long time ago.

"Edward? Are you okay?" my brain registered the slight pressure of a hand upon my trembling arm.

I flinched, looking up automatically. Angry-and-possibly-insane-girl was gazing at me with a look of concern upon her face, her fit of anger seemingly over and done with. Assessing her in a noticeably less hectic light demonstrated that she was probably in her late teens and was decidedly pretty.

"Edward?" her voice was soft and cautious, as if she was talking to an obviously unstable person.

I let out a quiet, hysterical snort as the absurdity of the situation began to hit me. I'd been chased through an unfamiliar shopping mall during peak time on a Saturday morning by a gang of thoroughly over-excited fan-girls and rescued by a confusingly angry girl who clearly regarded me as insane.

"I'll be fine in a moment," I sniggered, in a bid to reassure her.

She directed a look that was half bewilderment and half exasperation at me. I wondered if she regretted saving my ass now. I mean to put things in perspective I would probably have survived a fan-girl mauling, in a physical sense at least. Emotionally however, would have been a whole other concept.

"What floor was your car parked on?" she asked.

"Um, I didn't bring a car. I came in a taxi."

"You did what? Do you really think that was a good idea? Shouldn't you have security guards or something? You could have gotten hurt," her big brown eyes were shining with emotion again, I assumed it to be anger.

"Why does it even matter to you?" I sighed in defeat.

"That's a question that I've asked myself many times," she replied, her voice tinged with resignation.

This time when I looked at her, it was as though I saw more than I had at first glance. Sure, her outward appearance was still the same, yet it seemed as though this time I could sense her internal conflict and possible self-loathing. Perhaps this girl and I were more alike than I'd previously realized.

"Whereabouts is the taxi rank?" I asked, chastised.

"It's at the other end of the shopping mall."

I winced, envisioning the pure stress and idiocy of returning back into the masses of shoppers and attempting to reach the other side without attracting the attention of any rabid teenage girls. I really was going to have to work on my sprinting skills. Then again, plastic surgery was always a readily available option.

"Look, if you like I could give you a ride back to your hotel. I am heading back home anyway," the girl smiled at me tentatively.

I ran my hand through my hair nervously, and almost laughed as I watched her eyes widen slightly. In any other situation I would never have even considered taking her up on her offer but I admit it, I was intrigued by her and the glimpse of pain I had sensed within her just moments before.

"Well if it wouldn't be a problem for you...," I said cautiously.

"It will be a much less significant problem than you trying to outrun to fan-girls," she rolled her eyes at me.

She started to walk, in what I assumed was the direction of her vehicle, and I followed behind.

"Hey, I was doing just fine before," I joked.

"Oh yeah, I could see that, Edward," she spluttered.

For some peculiar reason, I found that I liked the way she said my name. She sort of emphasized it, as though she enjoyed saying it. It was strangely sexy.

"Hey, how come you get to know my name, but I don't know yours?"

"Um, because you are a famous movie star, whereas I, unfortunately am not."

"Details, details. Aw, come on tell me, then we'll be even," I whined.

"Well, since I saved you from being sacrificed by twelve years old, in actual fact it is you that owes me a favor."

"Tell me, please."

"Okay, okay. I'm Bella and this is my car," she stopped in front of a little yellow Beatle.

I could not stop the little smile that momentarily took over my face. The little yellow car, the star patterned sneakers on her feet and the striped knitted sweater she was wearing all went together so perfectly. It was kind of cute in a way. There was no doubt in my mind that this girl was weird. It just so happened that I liked weird.

"It suits you," I grinned as she keyed upon the doors, shoved her bags into the boot and clambered into the car.

I followed suit.

"Which one, my name or my car?" she enquired as she started the engine.

"Both," I winked at her.

"I hate my name," she said.

"It's a pretty name. Like I said it suits you."

"Mr Cullen, are you trying to flirt with me?" she giggled.

I laughed, realizing as I did so that this girl, Bella, was enabling me to show more emotion than I had in a hell of a lot of months. There was something about her, something that captivated me and interested me.

I glanced at her sideways, and then did a double take. In less than five seconds her expression had changed from playful to pained. It confused me how the look on her face caused my stomach to plummet. I'd known her for less than half an hour and I already cared. I internally cursed myself and wondered how many points I had managed to rack up on the idiot scale so far today.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly.

She snapped out of her trance at once.

"Yeah sorry, I just remembered something," she said quietly.

We pulled out of the car-park and I blinked adjusting to the light.

"So, whereabouts are you staying?" Bella asked as she fiddled with the CD player, finally managing to slip a new disc inside.

"Um, I'm staying at the 'Coach and Horses Inn' in Durham. Do you know it?"

I did not for a moment consider the possible implications of revealing my location for the duration of filming. For most people this probably doesn't sound like such a big deal but I had learned long ago the consequences of trust.

"Yeah, it's near the bus station, right?"

"Yep, that's the one."

All was silent in the car for a few moments, in which I scanned the interior, shamelessly searching for clues that would tell me more about the fascinating girl beside me. Scattered over the back-seat was looked like the entire contents of Blockbusters and situated on the dashboard was a Yoda bobble top head.

"I didn't have you pegged as a 'Star Wars' fan," I grinned, raising one eyebrow at her.

"Are you kidding me? My entire childhood consisted of lightsaber battles and making the Millenium Falcon out of blankets and tables," her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

"That's kind of strange for a girl. Shouldn't you have been playing hairdressers with your Barbies?" I teased.

"Not really. My dad was a huge fan since the first movie came out in the 70s. My brother and I were practically brought up with Chewie and R2D2. I thought I was going to marry Han Solo until I was like ten."

I laughed as I imagined a young girl with long brown hair and chocolate brown eyes dueling with a twig and crawling through the mud. I could picture the whole scenario with clarity, and in mind it was beyond adorable.

"Does that sound totally weird to you?" Bella asked as she twisted a lock of her hair with her free hand.

"Nope, I was just thinking. Plastic lightsabers make a great Jedi warrior not," I was unable to resist giving my best Yoda impression.

"I knew it! You're a 'Star Wars' geek too," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"Hey, that's Mr Star Wars Geek to you. I'll have you know that I was the champion of lightsaber duels at my junior school. I bet I could kick your ass in a battle," I countered, in mock indignation.

"Yeah, in your dreams, pretty boy. I didn't grow up in a house full of hard-core fans for nothing."

"Pretty boy, huh? You think I'm pretty?" I chuckled.

Bella blushed and I grinned at how strangely endearing she was. I'd resembled a robot for the previous year and all it took was this peculiar yet compelling girl to bring all sorts of emotions flooding back to the surface. I was laughing freely, I was smiling without effort and I didn't have to search for the words to make conversation. I was almost human.

It was wholly unfortunate that we pulled up by the pavement outside of my hotel at that very moment. The journey had slipped by effortlessly, naturally, when I knew that if Bella had been replaced by anybody else the ride would have been strained and possibly painful.

"We're here," she said hesitantly, causing me to wonder whether she was journeying down a similar train of thought.

"I'm not going anywhere until you answer my question," I desperately attempted to keep her company for just a few minutes longer.

"Oh, ok. You win. I think you're pretty. Happy?" she tried and failed to maintain a straight face as she uttered the words.

"I guess I am. Just so happens that I think you're pretty too," being in the very presence of Bella seemed to make my usually trouble-some word vomit issue ten times worse than normal.

She blushed and smiled shyly, so I figured that this time at least my unfortunate slip of the tongue hadn't caused too much damage. Reluctantly, I made to open the car door.

"Well thanks for the ride, Bella. It was nice meeting you," the first honest statement in months left my lips.

"It was no problem," she said quietly.

I opened the car door and clambered out and onto the path.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

She hesitated, as though unsure of what she was about to say.

"I know that you probably don't know anyone in this town..... and some of my friends and I are going to the bowling alley here tonight and then we'll probably grab a bite to eat. I won't be offended if you don't show but I just thought I'd offer," she stumbled over her words, due to what I assumed was nervousness.

"Erm...."

"If you decide to come we're meeting outside of the bowling alley at eight tonight. Bye."

She leaned over, shut the car door and drove away before I fully registered what was happening. I stared after the yellow Beatle until it turned at the traffic lights and disappeared from my line of view.

Three thoughts in particular echoed through my head. One, Bella was without a doubt an extremely complex and undeniably strange girl. Two, it would be both unwise and unnecessary to take her up on her offer and turn up at the bowling alley. Three, despite point two, Bella fascinated me enough for me to acknowledge that in all likelihood I would be outside of Durham bowling alley this evening.

I was without a doubt, a fool. Yet, I was a fool who was feeling more human than I had in twelve months. I grinned and whistled my favorite Beatles song as I walked up the steps at the front entrance of the hotel.

'Little darling, it's been been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling, feels like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun.....'

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**Reviews make Edward hum along to the Beatles again :).**


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